


Histories of Heroes

by kuroi_atropos



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Fix-It of Sorts, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Language Barrier, Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14458356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroi_atropos/pseuds/kuroi_atropos
Summary: There is a legend in the North, one that hails from the Age of Heroes and before. That of a Lord of Life, whose tomb waited in hiding to be re-discovered when there would be need to remind the people why they fought against the evils that crept forward in the darkness of the long Winter if they ever faltered.No one believed that the Lord of Life was just sleeping, and none of them expected Harry Potter.Harry Potter just wants to know what caused the world he knew to turn into Westeros, and what to do about the game of thrones that he was dragged into.





	1. Prologue and Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tomb of the First Men](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857026) by [sifshadowheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifshadowheart/pseuds/sifshadowheart). 



> For Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire I am using a mix of TV and book canon because I want the kids to all be a bit older, but I am bringing in several book elements.
> 
> Also a quick warning: the story this was fairly loosely inspired by is pretty heavy on the Yaoi/Slash if that is not your cup of tea. I may or may not go that direction, I am liking the Gen angle though so that is most likely.

XxXxX  
Prologue  
XxXxX

There are many stories and legends in the North. 

One of the most widespread is that of the Lord of Life, and though few seem to actually share the story everyone somehow knows it. No matter what changes come to the land the story persists, constantly shifting, constantly growing, as with all things alive.

One path that the story passes is from the Head of the House Stark to their Heirs. Their version of the story has stayed truer, though as all stories oft repeated in many voices it bears many differences from the actual truth of the tale. It also bears an element that many other versions of the story do not.

This is the version of the story that Lord Eddard Stark told all his children, including his bastard, Jon, but excluding his adopted-in-all-but-name hostage Theon Greyjoy. Thankfully, it will be passed to you minus all of their innumerable questions.

He, as many Starks before him, would take each child as they reached the age to begin learning their duties on a walk through the catacombs of Winterfell, down to the most bottom depths, having them recite the stories of the Starks they passed. Then, in the end, would reveal to them a great door hidden behind a particular outcropping in the darkest corner. This door would not have been out of place in the Great Hall of the Red Keep, the most massive and impressive castle in all of Westeros. Indeed, it was not a door so much as a wall in and of itself, locked with an ingenious mechanism in the sigil of a direwolf howling to a full moon. 

Then, in front of this great, locked door at the heart of many thousands of years of history, amidst the remains of the generations of noble Starks, Lord Stark would tell them what his Father told him. 

Once, in the time before the first men, there was a great warrior and priest of the Old Gods when they were still new, a Lord of Life, a Truth Seer who could divine the hearts of men at a glance. Though he was but a child not yet come into his own, he nevertheless led the people against the tyranny of an Evil Usurper who tried to steal the Throne from his King. The Evil Usurper, whose name must never be spoken, was madder than any seen before or since, and used dark, vile magics to torture and maim people in ways that good children should not even try to imagine.

This Lord of Life defeated the Evil Usurper using his Truth Seeing and the magic of Life itself learned from the Old Gods, and some say that the first weirwood tree grew on the spot of that victory. 

On the eve of his triumph, as he bent his knee to his King, the Lord of Life received a vision from his Truth Seeing, one which showed the danger of the First Winter to come. The King’s court grew suspicious of the timing, as the Lord warned of many follies that would be made in dealing with the First Winter and the terrors to come.

The Lord of Life stood strong against their fear and moved to protect the people. 

With a resolution not seen since, he prepared for winter. 

The King, his soul poisoned by his court that had grown corrupt in their fear, was further twisted by the remnants of the Evil Usurpers followers that had escaped justice, and demanded that the warrior magically swear his very soul to the obedience of the crown. The Lord, disgusted by the court and recognizing the King was not himself, swore instead to the protection of the people.

The Lord then called his followers, from nature itself in the form of great direwolves that towered over men to the simplest of serfs who held their lord dear. Some even say the Children of the Forest came to his banner, while others speak of death in human form that joined the Lord in battle for the soul of his King against the Corrupt Court.

In the end the Lord was victorious once more, and the King saw the truth of the whole ordeal. This truth came too late, though, for the Lord had been wounded gravely in the fight. The King, despairing over the soon-to-be-death of his most faithful, wept on his throne while cradling the Lord’s fast failing body, and the true members of the court joined him. The Lord of Life, ever kind and honorable, comforted the King and his followers, in that all was not lost, and that he would live so long as the people did, and the King should protect the people in his name to fulfil the oath he took.

The King and the Court swore an oath on the spot to do just that. They swore not just themselves but their whole lines from that day forth until the end of time. For none of them would forget that the Lord watched them through their people, and would hold them to account. The Gods themselves bowed to the power and strength of that promise, and in their awe at the sacrifice of the Lord, and the true conviction of the King and the Court, caused all the tears wept in the name of the Lord to freeze. The Lord’s body was thus encased in a tomb of ice that never melts as a reminder of the sacrifices one might be called to make in the name of the King and the people.

Legend held that that body of the Lord of Life, it’s visage that of a boy barely old enough to truly live, covered in ice that does not rested behind a door, hidden by the ages where it waited for the day that the Lords of the North needed a reminder of why they fought for the people.

The Starks, by their honor, even in the face of dragons that forced them to bend a knee, upheld their oaths to keep that door, this door in fact, hidden. For as guardians of the people, it was their job to open the doors, if that reminder was ever required. 

That reminder had never been needed though, as the King and all the Lords held true to the Promise, and their lines all still fight to this day. And though some have forgotten the details, they still live by the heart of that promise. 

Finally, once the story ended, he would turn to each child and say:

“And this children, this is the promise. 

We will stay strong, we will stay true, for the people, for Winter is Coming.”

XxXxX  
Chapter One  
XxXxX

The night was nearly half over, dark and deep save for the white sliver of a waning moon overhead. The newly arrived royal guests of the House of Stark had all retired to their beds. All slept now in Winterfell, save the Queen’s younger brother who remained awake and reading in his rooms just as the Lady Catelyn Stark warned would happen. The Lord of the House of Stark, Eddard “Ned” Stark, sat in the family catacombs staring at the carved visage of his sister. She was the woman in whose name the Targaryen royal dynasty was brought low by the very King now asleep in Ned’s guest house in the arms of several of his serving maids. The feather King Robert Baratheon had brought to show his respects lay stiff and still, a touch of brown and bronze where it lay cradled in her stone hand.

Earlier, Ned had felt an urge to take the frail thing and grind it to dust beneath his boot, though he didn’t as he knew it had been offered as honorably as Robert could manage.

In truth he had so much to consider that the feather seemed such a small trifle when he started thinking it all though. With Robert’s proposals both for Ned to take the position down in King’s Landing at the Red Keep as the King’s Hand, and for Sansa, his precious, naive Sansa, to marry Prince Joffery, he had a thousand possible outcomes spinning through his mind. If he was being upfront about his current stance on the matters, Ned couldn’t say even to himself which answer he should give to either proposition, for all Sansa had begged of her Mother to influence him to say yes.

There was a reason, well, more than one reason, that he had stayed North and avoided King’s Landing though his old friend sat on the throne.

Even now with so many more reasons staked on the side that Ned should go to defend the man… The death of the former King’s Hand Jon Arryn, so suspicious already without counting the hurried missive from his wife, who he would have heard out even had she not been Catelyn’s sister. Though truthfully the woman barely wrote Cate, and was full of ill news or snide gossip when she did, so there was something about it that he wasn’t sure of. It smacked of intrigue at the very least. An intrigue that kept him up even though his wife had long returned to bed. 

Ned would normally carefully consider all his options before making any type of decision, and this decision with all it led to he was giving more thought than ever, for there would be heavy consequences any choice he made. 

There was only so far the friendship of a King would go if denied, especially a man like Robert, who for all that he was a good friend, had long been ruled by immediate desires and snap judgements that he held like they were truths from the gods. 

But the risk in accepting was high as well to say the least. Especially as he was not one for pretenses or airs or pretty words, and would be landing himself and his family in a viper’s nest of people that had cut their teeth on such things. 

Frankly, he was pissed at his friend for even considering this as Robert damn well knew his thoughts on the Southern Courts and King’s Landing in particular. He was far more at home in the North where one could focus on what mattered most, as most Northerners were rational and practical people in comparison to the Southern Lords and Ladies.

Ned, like any sane person, didn’t want to sit on or near a damn Throne. Gods curse it, the only reason he was Lord was because his brother died and he did his duty as a Stark was meant to do. 

His family had given enough to the power plays of the South. 

So much loss his family had suffered, all for the benefit of others who cared about little but themselves. 

It seemed so often that it was a thankless sacrifice, and that was fine more often than not. 

It was the price they paid for their place. 

Yet these choices he made now would not just impact him, even more than any other they would impact the whole of the North. They would impact his family in very dear and personal ways when they had already given so much. 

For he had raised his children well, so while there would be some complaints, especially from Arya if she had to go south and deal with the court’s expectations of a Lady, his children would all do their honor bound duties. 

And in that, something struck him. Maybe it had been a stray thought, or some other wyrd, but in flash of insight, he felt a deep, all consuming urge to move. 

He stood and, almost in a trance like state, walked forward, heading to the deepest depths of the catacombs. He passed all his ancestors of the old, main lines, favored brothers and cousins, heroes and peacekeepers the lot. Rare was the coward in House Stark, and none were buried here. For Starks were the Protectors of the North, and no one that ran when the people needed defending deserved a spot of honor in the catacombs. 

There, hidden in the deepest cave, one that had little tool work and no candles already lit by the servants charged with tending the tombs, was the door. The door that had been popping up in his thoughts so often lately, especially with his old friend come calling on favors and now word of the Lannisters’ possible betrayal. Gods help him… The Lannisters... The Queen and the Kingslayer and the Imp and their Gods be damned father Tywin who had wiped out whole families. 

Should he say yay or nay to the two propositions Robert had laid at his feet, so many things could go wrong his mind wouldn’t stop spinning horrible visions of the sacrifices he and his family would be making.

Ned went back to the relatively more trodden paths of the catacombs and took a candle from a sconce, returning to the chamber holding the door, and with care he lit the line of oil ringing the room in a cleverly carved canal that he’d tended to himself.

The room burst into light, displaying the door in all its dark glory. 

Robert had always laughed at the stories and legends Ned shared from the North, especially this one once he’d wheedled it out of Ned when he had been deeper than normal in his cups (though he had at least managed to not mention the damn door itself to the man who might well have wanted to find it and knock it down with his damned warhammer just to see what lay behind it). 

Because this truth was a deep truth, and while they never named it to any but their blood, guarding this door was one of the duties of the Starks. He sometimes suspected that that was why it was in the catacombs. Indeed the thought that the Starks had started burying their dead by it as more incentive to fight for it had crossed his mind more than once.

Why they protected it, no one knew for certain these days. 

For while his Father and he had, and his children would, he supposed, pass down that this was the tomb of the Lord of Life, who gave his life to save the people of Westeros, it could honestly be a tomb of the first Starks, or other heroes of the First Men from before the Valayrians or the Andals came calling. He snorted, it could even be empty.

Honestly no one knew for certain these days, though the Starks still did their duty and guarded the door with the rest of the crypts. 

“Father?” Ned turned in surprise at the sound to find both Robb and Jon hovering behind him hesitatingly, their direwolf pups at their feet. Robb was still mostly dressed in his best from the feast in the King’s honor earlier that night, though he’d picked up a set of arms since Ned had last seen him, and Jon was in training clothes and had one of his practice swords strapped to his waist. 

Both had the chill of night air still emanating from them. 

After seeing Arya and Bran off to be tucked into bed like Rickon had been earlier like the dutiful oldest sibling he was, Robb had probably hunted down where Jon was hiding in the yard during the feast. They had likely stayed up talking as was often the case when either of them were struggling with something. 

Or when they just felt like it, as it was oft remarked to him (outside of Cate’s hearing, for she would turn colder than the ice of the Wall at any hint people considered his bastard Jon in the same thought as his true born heir Robb) that the boys were closer than twins sometimes. 

Gods, his boys. 

He’d always meant to leave his children a better world then he had received, but circumstances now threatened all of that. An acceptance would drag them into the dangers of the court made worse with accusations of murder being bandied about, and a denial risked drawing the wrath of vengeful king.

All his children deserved so much better.

Especially his oldest boys, both cursed by duty in their own different ways. Even now as they stood before him, their eyes were, not odd, but wide with an almost identical lost look that carved something deep in his heart.

Truthfully in the low light, the slight differences between the boys were nearly negligible, though Robb definitely had the taller, bulkier build. The redder color of Robb’s hair and the deep black of Jon’s blended equally well into the warm oil light of the door chamber. Even the differences between their pups was hard to tell, though Ghost normally stood out like a sore thumb with his pure white fur. He almost snorted at the thought that his children’s direwolves were much alike them in looks, what with the way that Ghost could be easily picked out from his siblings like Jon from the rest of Ned’s children. Though really Arya’s hair was darkening to the point she’d be showing more of Ned’s Northern coloring than Catelyn’s Southern Tully coloring soon. 

Gods was she starting to look like Lyanna. 

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “What are you two doing down here, boys?” they glanced at each other, but Ned could easily tell that they obviously had no further answer then he for why the door plagued his thoughts this eve. Perhaps they had even felt that same call to the door as he had, minutes ago. 

With a sigh he turned and faced the haunting door once more. The door, for all it appeared plain at first glance, was a dark black stone, inscribed with runes and words that were close to Old Valyarian, but were untranslatable by Ned’s work. He thought little of the fact he had never quite been able to bring a Maester or other scholar down here to check, or even sent snippets of the writing out, as for some reason he’d never even brought Cate down here like he had the children. It had never seemed right to let anyone besides blood family actually see the door. 

Whether the door lead to the tomb of an early Stark long forgotten, or a warrior of legend, it would do little to help his current predicament to stay here gazing at it like a fool. No matter how meditative the firelight dancing on the door seemed. Still the oddness of his and his boys being drawn here was something to consider. Ned hesitatingly reached out and trailed his hand along the seam at the center of the door. There was a lock in the middle, an intricate piece of metal and stone work that was shaped in the form of a direwolf, howling at the moon. He’d never even tried to figure out how to undo it, even as he tried to decipher the writings around it. 

There had always been something that made him shy from the lock and what it might reveal. Now though, now that familiar nagging to not touch had vanished. In fact he could swear it almost seemed as if it had called – was still calling --him. As if the lock itself drew his fingers down the tight fitted crack of the door only to stop as soon as they touched the carving. 

The moment his fingers brushed over the head of the direwolf, the creature’s entire form shifted, twisting faster than Ned could pull back from in his absolutely flabbergasted surprise, and sank its sharp teeth into his hand. Given the sheer absurdity of the situation, he was not quite afraid to admit that he shouted in shock, and was so focused on trying to free his fingers from the living lock that he had nearly forgotten about his boys who loyally ran to his side.

The direwolf was a fairly large carving of dark metal, and its bite easily swallowed three of his fingers. Yanking proved unsuccessful in freeing himself, and the creature actually seemed to growl and settle on its haunches, as if it simply refused to release him. 

“What in the Seven Hells?” Robb snapped, and Jon made an equally confused noise, making Ned feel just a bit better at the thought of not being entirely crazy and having others see the statue move. The confusion and oddness of the moment was not helped by Ghost and Grey Wind’s barked growls and snarls at their carven kin.

Jon, before Ned could try and stop him stuck his own fingers into the direwolf’s mouth to try and unclench the jaw, not giving up even as he cut his fingers on the thing’s sharp teeth. Robb tried a more direct approach, smashing the hilt of his sword against the stone above where Ned’s fingers disappeared inside the thing, only to have the creature shift, drawing a pained hiss from Ned and a cringe from Jon. One of the thing’s paws managed to lift off the door and swing at Robb, its razor claws drawing blood from Robb’s ungloved hand. 

Almost as soon as his son’s blood coated the claws of the beast, it suddenly released its hold on Ned, causing him to fall back to the ground from the force he had been applying to try and tug himself free.

Both boys immediately dropped to his side, though Robb, with his weapon already drawn, stayed kneeling, pointing the blade at the carven direwolf on the off chance it could fully move from the lock on the door. The beast, though, merely shifted further before crouching down and leaping over the moon on the lock, somehow vanishing back into the door itself. 

Ned blinked. 

As soon as the wolf fully disappeared, the moon moved, turning as if rushing through the phases of the true moon, and as soon as the once full moon had reached the equivalent of a new moon, the doors creaked and shuddered. A powdering of dust fell towards them as the doors shifted, slowly swinging wide open and leaving a dark, gaping chasm before them. 

“What in the Seven Hells?” Robb asked again, this time quieter, truly questioning rather than cursing. Both pups were growling low from where they crouched hunched at his boys’ feet, making the whole thing feel all the more surreal. 

Ned turned from the dark nothingness now revealed to staunch the flow of blood from his fingers as best he could, Jon assisting by ripping a strip from his tunic and wrapping the deep punctures. It was well done, a solid field dressing, and Ned spared the boy a smile and nod of thanks. Jon’s eyes lit and he quickly helped Ned stand when he moved. 

Immediate concerns handled, he turned back to the sight that had not been seen by man (at least to his knowledge) in thousands of years.

It was too much to resist, even for his normally cautious self. 

Ned moved so he stood right before the hanging doors. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he might find. The air emanating from the newly opened space smelled surprisingly fresh and not at all stale like he imagined would come from a place that had been closed off as long. He carefully took a step forward, and as soon as his foot touched down past the threshold, the ring of oil round the walls of the door chamber seemed to spread through the walls themselves into the darkness, lighting an identical ring in the new room as well. The light was not nearly as much as in the room before the doors, but it caught on something, made if sparkle. 

Even more so now, this felt like an exceedingly stupid thing to do, but Ned needed to look. 

He warily took a few more steps forward. 

“Father!” his boys cried in unison, and Ned turned to look at them. They remained outside the door for the moment, both their faces were uneasy, though they almost hid it in a maintained Stark resolve. They were both growing up so fine, he would do almost anything really to make it so that it was his generation that paid the price he could feel was about to come due.

He somehow knew they would follow and so he turned back to the chamber, ever so carefully moving further into the room in the direction of the sparkles. The lights sprung higher, and the room, the tomb, burst into a bright light, though he could not quite make out the source.

The sparkle that had caught in the dim light now burst with color, to the point nearly blinded him. The next instant, the light of the room began to settle, slowly, carefully, reaching a level where one could still see at but did not overwhelm. 

The source of the sparkles was better revealed and his breath caught. 

There, at the top of a short series of steps, stood a giant crystal in the shape of a multifaceted teardrop. It easily outdid any crown jewel in sheer aesthetics and shone with a deep bluish brilliance that reflected other colors on the edges like the finest of diamonds. In the center of the crystal, kneeling towards the door though with his head held high, was a boy, barely older than Robb and Jon. He had green eyes that glowed like the brightest of emeralds back lit by fire, and his gaze was challenging, fierce. His hair was black and wild, and his clothes, though of a strange cut, still appeared finely made, a mix of leathers and thick, sturdy cloth. 

He didn’t realize that he had gotten closer to the crystal, almost to the point where he could touch it, before his boys grabbed onto him again with desperate hands. Their faces now were openly scared, and he could see the same draw towards the strange trapped boy in them that he felt, though he saw their eyes dance down to all three of their bleeding hands, and their youth show through. The instinctive recoil at the unknown, at the different, that people almost always seemed to pick up as they grew that he had not finished training out of them yet, though they were naturally better than many. Both boys were strong, and he knew quite well that they would continue to do well in that regard as they grew. 

They had kind hearts, his boys. 

He’d sacrifice anything really, to see them become the great men that he knew they would be. 

As if waiting for that cue, the Direwolf from the lock dropped to the upwards facing point of the crystal, and their blood dripped from its claws and fangs to the crystal, and where it landed the crystal gave a huge, heaving crack.

Ned, with the rare experience of once having seen the sheer sides of the Wall cave, knew that sound, and grabbed both boys and threw them all back from the strange item that was about to come apart.

They all stared in awe as the crystal slowly started forming more and more cracks until it looked more fragile than a pond holding onto the last vestiges of ice during a thaw. When it seemed no more substantial than a spider web, the crystal split down the center with another resounding crack and a great heave that shook the room. The crystal crumbled away from the form of the kneeling boy, shattering across the floor like a block of low quality ice on stone. The boy dropped from his suspended kneel to crash into the floor, and though he tried to catch himself, his arms failed him, sending him sprawling. 

The figure laid there on the floor for a breath, two, three…

Then suddenly the arms slid up to brace their hands against the floor, not hesitating even with the crystal shards laid out like small daggers beneath him, and he pushed up. The boy looked around a moment before his sharp green eyes, no longer glowing but still a shocking shade of emerald that would put a Lannister to shame, focused on Ned and his boys. He stared at them almost blankly for a moment, as if trying to recollect something, before he scrambled back a ways, eventually stumbling to his feet. There was a look on his face, not quite fear, but something close, and his hands twitched as if to go for a weapon, but they stayed up, palms up in a gesture of lack of arms. The boy looked them over more thoroughly, eyeing the blade still in Robb’s grip, and the swords strapped to the waists of Ned and Jon. His eyes flew around the room then, as if searching for something and not finding anything that could even remotely be familiar.

He finally said something, but his tongue was strange, sounding nearly like the Old Tongue but not quite. He stated something again, and a dark look of frustration crossed his face at their lack of response. 

“We don’t understand you,” Robb snapped at his side, Grey Wind yapping to punctuate his sharp statement, and Ned held a hand up to silence him, but it seemed the recently released young man understood the gist of Robb’s statement even if he didn’t know the words. The young man quickly snapped another phrase, and even though Ned didn’t understand it either, it was obviously a different language and he shook his head no on that one almost instinctively. 

This went on for several minutes and a full host of languages before the boy huffed, crossing his arms in a much annoyed fashion, and both Ned’s boys couldn’t help but laugh. Even Ned had to crack a smile at the sheer comical look of the boy, striking a pose so childish that not even Rickon could pull it off (and his youngest was shaping to be a master of manipulating his older siblings… If he wasn’t so sweet, Ned would be worried). The boy eventually smiled in return, and that seemed to relax him enough that he was less on the frustrated defensive, and it put Ned a bit at ease as well, though this entire situation was strange and unbelievable to a large degree.

“I am sorry, sir, do you perhaps understand what we are saying?” Ned asked, trying Common once more. The boy shrugged, and Ned sighed. He knew a smattering of High and Low Valarian, and a word or two of a few more languages, but he had a hunch as that first language still sounded much like the Old Tongue... 

And though he was hardly fluent… 

“Do you speak in the Old Tongue?” He asked in it, and the boy narrowed his eyes, tilting his head, obviously hearing the same slight sameness that Ned had heard, but ultimately shook his head. 

Finally the boy raised a finger and quickly raised a hand to the air, quickly tracing a few symbols, and Ned’s eyes widened as in the trail of that finger fire followed. Fire that stayed in the air forming words in High Valarian. How about this?

Ned was almost so shocked by the fire magic that he failed to acknowledge he could at least read High Valarian at least a little, though truthfully it had been years since he had done it regularly. Still he managed a quick nod, but gestured at the first and last word, indicating he only understood those. The boy smiled before poking the words with his finger and they rearranged. Well, that’s a start. Unfortunately Ned didn’t know any of those and shook his head with a sigh. 

Finally the boy pointed at himself, and said a word, “Harry.”

Ned smiled in return, well, at least his name made sense, he pointed to himself, “Ned.” He gestured and named his boys, “Robb, and Jon,” as well. The boy nodded, finally at least trusting them enough to settle fully out of his defensive stance and actually start to really look around the tomb room, though he was obviously quite a bit lost, and never really let them out of his sight. Before he could do much though, or Ned could figure out what to say further, trying desperately to remember his written High Valaryan, he heard a call from further up the catacombs. 

“Ned!” Cate’s voice practically screamed, and he heard other shouts as well, all of which sounded worried and harried. 

“The crack,” he turned to Jon and Robb, who had a look of puzzlement on their faces, “when the room shook, the tremors must have carried.”

“They think it’s an earthquake, and they would have done a headcount and found us missing,” Robb stated. 

Ned nodded in agreement, “most likely. Catelyn knew I was in the catacombs, it isn’t a stretch to think you boys would be with me.” 

He glanced over at the boy who was looking between them and the door the shouts were echoing through with a suspicious eye. This… this wasn’t a tomb, or a grave… on the negative side, it might be a jail cell, but somehow he didn’t think so, either way he didn’t want this boy exposed further until he had the chance to sort it out. 

“Stay here!” he told the boy in the Old Tongue, hoping it would at least be familiar enough before he rushed out the doors and towards the upper reaches of the catacombs, both his boys and their pups on his heels. “We’re fine, Cate!” he called out ahead of them. He didn’t want her or anyone not a Stark by blood seeing the door wide open, the boy and the sea of crystal shards at his feet.

They came upon the party, with Cate and Rickard at the lead, just a few twists in the catacombs away, and Ned was grateful they had hurried. 

“Ned!” Cate called out and rushed to his side, running her hands over him quickly as if to check for damage. 

“I’m fine, Cate,” he grinned. “My apologies for troubling you.” 

His wife made a quite unhappy sounding noise, and Ned knew he’d never be able to slip back down to see the boy now, as Cate was in a right mood and Rickard was eyeing him something fierce with a suspicion only years of friendship could bring. Someone would need to though, if just to reiterate that he needed to stay hidden, and see if he needed food or drink or anything else after however many years of being in that Crystal. Luckily Robb wasn’t one to be much fussed over by his mother, and Catelyn rarely worried as much for Jon as Ned did. He met the eyes of his boys over Catelyn’s head as he finished going over the lists of what would need to be done in the morning to finish checking for damage from the ‘quake’ while still dealing with their royal guests and the King’s insistence on a hunt and gave them a sharp head tilt back to the catacombs. 

His brilliant boys picked up his hint well enough, and luckily he saw them head to the kitchens first after a few quiet words from Jon. 

XxXxX

Harry James Potter had no bloody clue what in the name of Merlin was going on. Especially with the guys dressed like particularly out of date wizards or LARPers that didn’t speak any of the top ten most prevalent languages and barely understood written English. Really, things were a little bit hazy, as if he was waking up from oversleeping by a few hours. He struggled to remember what happened before he found himself here, but it felt strangely blank. The last thing that he remembered was sitting in front of a fire sipping Butterbeer, hosting the annual Weasley Christmas/Yule Party that had everyone in attendance as his place was really the only one that had the room for all the extended family. Even Bill and Fleur, who traded years in between their parents, were there that year. Even Neville and Luna were in the house, as Neville regularly tried to ditch out on his family, and Luna loved just being around them all. 

How he ended up in this underground chamber he had no idea. There was something about the shards on the ground that were screaming at his mind, like he should know them. And that they were significant somehow, but examining them didn’t really reveal much, even what precise gem they were as they didn’t register with any of the testing spells that he used once the three men, well the man and two teenagers, had run out of the room like they had Dementors chasing them when they heard the shouts from down, outside, whatever direction they had come from. He could guess well enough that the man had told him to stay put, and given that he wanted to poke around to see what he could find he didn’t mind much. 

He had originally thought that the three people before him were at fault for him being here, but they had seemed just as confused, if not more so, than himself. He also thought their clothes were something out of a ren-faire, and that was saying something for someone who spent a good chunk of their time in the Wizarding World with their distinctly unique fashions. And they’d been armed with swords rather than wands, which said just as much as to their ability to draw him here magically. 

Additionally they spoke no language he’d heard of, though the one the adult used last was, well, close, almost to English. If you squinted. It was worse than American English. Writing seemed hit or miss with English, though why he wasn’t sure. It would be a way to try and communicate if they ever came back – he could try getting the language out of their heads with Legilimency, but he was far from proficient and worried about accidentally hurting them. If they weren’t enemies, that was probably a bad idea. 

He could try a translation spell, but those were iffy without a willing point of reference who already spoke a language you knew and the one you wanted to learn. With one, well, you could be like Barty Crouch Sr. or Dumbledore and speak 500 languages. 

Harry was at 31, though he hoped to get there eventually. 

Still, not helpful right now. 

His holly and phoenix feather wand had been up one sleeve, and he had found the Elder Wand up the other, which was odd as he distinctly remembered leaving it in Dumbledore’s grave. The resurrection stone was also on his left middle finger, which wasn’t as much of a shock, as some enterprising reporter looking for more information on the final fight against Voldemort had stumbled across it one day and killed themselves over the apparition of their dead mother. Harry had luckily been at the scene and collected the ring, keeping it on a chain around his neck after that. 

His invisibility cloak had been hidden on the inside of his coat, just like whenever he had been about to head into a fight. It was disconcerting to say the least. 

Still it left him fairly well armed and able to take of himself, which relieved quite a bit of his stress. 

So he poked around the rest of the chamber, eventually finding a disguised door behind the steps with their waterfall of crystals. It was blended fairly well into the rock, and Harry was shocked as it seemed much like Goblin work. While Harry had eventually managed to come to a truce with the Goblins after the break-in (mainly by repaying them for a ton of damages with interest, returning the Sword of Gryffindor, and lobbying for several other concessions on their behalf), wizards still weren’t their favorite people, and they really only cared for their gold. That there was a Goblin made door in what was either a wizard or a muggle controlled area…

Harry needed to get it open. 

He was about to try his first spell when he heard feet scurrying in his direction from the door the men had bolted out of earlier. He slipped his holly wand back into his sleeve and turned in time to see the young boys, no older than 20 at the most, rush into the room with the two wolf pups from earlier at their feet. 

The one with the slightly longer curly black hair was holding a plate of food. 

Harry’s stomach growled, and he blushed red, but it caused both the boys to laugh, which gave him enough confidence to move over to them. The black haired boy held the plate out to him and Harry gratefully took it. The food was simple, bread, some sliced meat that was probably beef, a few fingerling potatoes and a handful of grapes, but it still looked delicious. Harry did a quick poison check, having long mastered that one wandlessly.

Wandless magic was actually pretty useful when you were an Auror. Just like broomless flying. It had taken him a bit, but he’d finally figured out the trick that Voldemort and Snape managed.

The food didn’t register any poisons that he knew, so he took the plate over to the steps, and gesturing for the boys to join him, sat and dug in. The boys quickly rushed over to drop down next to him, staring at him a bit in awe, and Harry wasn’t quite sure what to think. He was used to it from wizards, but these boys didn’t appear to be wizards. They didn’t even appear to be normal muggles. 

There was a few moments of quiet as he ate, but eventually the boys started chattering to each other. It seemed innocent enough talk, though that was probably just the tone, for Harry to ignore it. He finished the entire plate rather quickly, and as he polished off the grapes for dessert he offered to split them with the boys using gestures and they each took a couple to munch on. 

Once he was done, he set the plate aside and turned to face the boys. Time to try and work this language thing out. The ground beneath them was fairly dusty, and just as Harry was testing being able to draw in it, the taller boy, the one with reddish hair and crystal blue eyes pulled out a scroll of parchment and a quill, which Harry practically crowed over. He quickly snatched it up, and pointing at himself, again spoke his name and wrote it down. The boys quickly followed, and Harry was glad to note that he had correctly understood Robb and Jon early. He gestured, indicating the third man, and repeated the name Ned, which both boys nodded quickly at and jotted down the word that matched how he would spell Ned.

Okay. Good, he wasn’t completely without hope when it came to communicating. 

He jotted down a quick sentence, where am I? 

Luckily for him Robb seemed to understand enough, and said and wrote “Winterfell.” 

Which was in the end decidedly unhelpful. “England?” He questioned and wrote, and both boys glanced at it, talking back and forth a bit before shaking their heads, and Harry let out a huff. Joy, just what he needed. Places that were completely unknown on top of not speaking the language. 

They traded some words back and forth on the parchment out loud, including the names of the wolf pups, Ghost and Grey Wind, and at the end Harry could fairly convincingly say the standard courtesies, hello, how are you, where’s the bathroom, and the like when the red head yawned, starting off a round for all of them. The boys discussed more back and forth, and then the black haired one slipped out while the redhead wrote out the times of day with Harry, circling the one that Harry basically figured was the equivalent of ‘way too late to be awake.’ 

He was trying to figure out how to ask what had happened to cause him to be here when the black haired boy came back with a pile of blankets, a book, and a map. 

The book turned out to be a rather rough dictionary of the half English writing that they semi-knew with the words next to it that Robb and Jon had been teaching him. But the map, the map caught his attention. 

He didn’t entirely understand the scale quite yet, but the map indicated either two islands or continents that didn’t match any that Harry knew. This was bad. 

Still he managed to swallow his ire and nod his thanks, grateful he could say it out loud. 

Both boys had managed to pass along that he needed to stay hidden, though Harry wasn’t quite sure why. He figured that would need to wait until he understood the language better, or got bored. Either or really. 

Still he created a rather decent nest with the blankets, and as the boys indicated they would be back with breakfast, Harry nodded.

He did end up slipping out of the nest and following them out a bit while under a Disillusionment Charm, just to be sure that he could. He followed them through catacombs lit with candles to glance out into the yard of a medieval keep, dotted with men in mail armor carrying swords.

Harry scowled and headed back to the crystal shard room. He’d need to poke around in the day when it was light. This was… Something strange to say the least. 

He walked right past the nest and up the steps to where the hidden door was, and pressed at it just to see if it would open. It didn’t, and Harry pulled his wand out to begin testing the door when there was a tug at his pant leg. Harry glanced down and there was a small, metal wolf looking up at him. Harry raised an eyebrow at it, and it promptly sat up and yipped at him playfully. Harry stared at it, trying to place it, and the creature dropped to a watching stance, eyes staring up at him dolefully, and Harry cursed.

The color and size had thrown him off. It was burnished almost black and green and with a quick wave of his wand, Harry revealed the golden wolf he had enchanted as toy and companion to watch out for Teddy in his stead whenever he had to go out on a long assignment. Teddy had called it Nymph, after his Mother. The creature yipped again, and Harry quickly broke the shrinking charm on it, and it shook out its enchanted fur just like a dog or wolf would do to its real fur. 

What was it doing here? 

Teddy had kept the wolf close his whole life, even when he’d gone to Hogwarts.

It then pawed over to the door and with a quick scratch, indicated that Harry should go through. Harry eyeballed the door again, casting a few detection spells to try and figure out what would happen. There was definitely a magical lock on it, but it wasn’t one that Harry really recognized. This was turning out to be a banner evening for him understanding things, really and truly. 

With a huff he stepped back to stare at the door as a whole. If this turned into something ridiculously simple he was going to destroy something. 

If this was all some type of horrible joke...

No. 

Teddy would never let Nymph loose for a joke.

And the things he’d seen. 

Something was wrong.

He dropped to his knees, eyeing the door from top to bottom, trying to decide how to open it. Teddy’s wolf circled back around to lay it’s head on his lap and Harry scratched behind its ears slightly. The feel was just a tad different than a real wolf, but for the most part it was comparable. 

Still, it was another part of the puzzle. Teddy polished the wolf every other day, religiously. He’d have never let it get so dirty. Heck, the power he had needed to put behind the spell to clean it… It had been sitting for awhile. And the crystal shards that tugged at his memory, and this door. The people, who seemed shocked by him, but could half communicate… 

Harry laid back and looked at the ceiling of the room. Really it was nothing more than rough rock. This whole cave room thing reminded him far too much of the Chamber of Secrets. 

Maybe… 

Harry sat up and looked at the door. 

“Open,” he hissed at it in Parseltongue. The door didn’t open, but the magic around it shifted. So that was it, a pass phrase, imbued with some type of magic. Hmm… 

“Expecto Patronum,” he called out, his stag patronus trotting out Harry quickly whispered the words he was thinking to it, and it called out in his voice “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” 

Sure enough the door creaked open, and Harry grinned, jumping to his feet and darting to see what was revealed.

He’d blame freezing the way he did on shock.

Because hidden behind that door was a treasure trove of magical artifacts. So many that it was impossible to take it all in at a glance. They were lined along the walls and floor and stacked in piles, including several of straight up gold in multiple denominations (it reminded him a bit of the room of hidden things, just slightly more organized). 

He carefully stepped into the room to get a closer look. An entire wall was covered in books all carefully preserved under enchantments. 

There were suits of armor lining the others, swords and weapons of various makes, all sorts of random oddities 

Towards the back, he found rows of petrified dragon eggs as well as several other types of eggs under stasis charms that he couldn’t recognize off the top of his head. 

Near those were dozens of other magical creatures, all under various protections and enchantments in stasis. There were augreys, nifflers, kneezles, more that he vaguely recognized, and towards the very back, twenty thestrals and forty unicorns. 

What in the name of Merlin? He spun around, paying closer attention to the artifacts. There was no consistency. There were some sleeping paintings that he remembered from Hogwarts, a few others from the ministry and several from Museums that he had visited with Andromeda and a little Teddy, others he had no clue. And… Those were the Malfoy family tapestries in that corner, some silver trinkets that had been at Grimmauld place, and there in the corner, a crown and jewel set he felt pretty sure was one he’d seen over in France when he had been visiting Bill and Fleur and their kids once.

This was like… This was like some type of vault for everything magical with no rhyme or reason! 

Suddenly there were quiet pops in front of him, and Harry had his wand out and pointed on instinct before he realized what he was doing. There cowering before him were two shivering, terrified house elves gazing at his wand with big, trembling watery eyes, their big ears drooping. Harry relaxed a bit and smiled at them. 

“Hello, and what are your names?” 

The two creatures wibbled. “Great Master Harry Potter Sir is as great a wizard as everyone said he is, asking our names first things!” The first one cried.

“He is, he is!” The other one agreed. Harry, through a gallant effort, managed to not rub the bridge of his nose and sigh.

“I am Skitter, sir, it is a pleasure to serve the great Master Harry Potter, sir” the first one said. 

“And I am Tamsy, Master Harry Potter sir,” the second followed. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you both, and please, just call me Harry” he said, and they both if anything, looked even more enchanted. “Okay, any chance that you know what is going on?” 

Both of them drooped, looking sad and put out immediately. 

“It was the war, sir, it got really bad,” Skitter said. “Magic was dying, Master Harry sir.”

Harry felt that like a punch in the gut. “War? Dying?” 

The House Elves nodded, “it was after you went to sleep, Master Harry sir. Though many tried to wake you and failed. The muggles found out about wizards, sir, and things got real bad.” 

Harry fell to his knees. No… 

“Muggles use nuklir weapons,” Nuclear… Harry thought… Nuclear bombs, “and wizards fought and everyone fought. So many died, Master Harry sir. The whole world shifted. Great storms and fire and so much death. Continents rose and fell and the earth itself changed.” Harry wasn’t surprised. There had been several studies done around Nagasaki and Hiroshima, Chernobyl, the testing sites in the United States and the Pacific… Everywhere that the muggles used nuclear power, magic got wonky. And if magic got to close to the power plants, well, those had the tendency to malfunction just like most electronics. Definitely not a good thing. 

Harry quickly cast the radiation detecting spells he’d learned from some American wizards when he’d been on a joint task force dealing with a few terrorists that had gotten their hands on a nindu with Ron and Draco.

That whole week had sucked… Royally. 

The radiation wasn’t bad actually. Slightly high, but nothing that wasn’t outside of a safe range. He’d have to redo the spells once he got to the surface, but he didn’t think that he would have a problem. 

“Last wizards helped make the bad energy go away Master Harry Potter sir!” Harry glanced at the two house elves and nodded. That made sense, in a way.

“What is this place specifically?” He asked. 

“This is the Safe-Keeping,” Tamsy grinned. “The last wizards put as much of the old magic as they could here, hoping that the world would heal enough it could be brought out.” 

“Why am I here, do you know?” He asked. 

“Master Teddy had Master Harry Sir’s Crystal brought here, and the Safe-Keeping keyed to something you would know just in cases. Skitter and Tamsy were bound to you too, sir, to save us since there were no more magical residences, sir. We were put asleep until the Safe-Keeping was opened, sir, so that we would be safe and serve you, Great Wizard Master Harry Potter Sir when it came time to bring magic back and save everyone, sir.” 

Harry froze, “no more magical residences? Not even Hogwarts?” 

Both elves shook their heads sadly, and Harry sighed. Okay, he would breakdown and cry over that later. For now he needed to figure out how to survive in this dark new world he’d somehow found himself in, and save as many of the now truly priceless artifacts around him as possible. 

“My memory is a little fuzzy, do either of you know how I ended up in the Crystal?” Both elves looked at each before looking back at him, practically crying already. 

“It was so sad sir! Blood Curses on Master Teddy, and on the Masters and Mistresses Weasley and all, made you kneel sir the evil wizards did!” 

And just like that it came flashing back, like a bad dream… 

Teddy and the others trapped under blood magic, screaming… The crystal swallowing him whole...

Harry swallowed. 

No. He’d think about it later. Never was good. 

For now, he needed to figure things out. 

He hadn’t known what would happen after he did that, there had been no way to tell… Truthfully he could feel a vague sense of time, but luckily he hadn’t been aware. It really was like going to sleep one night and then waking up, thank Merlin. He had no idea what would happen if his mind had been awake the entire time, he’d be more than a little mad most likely! 

Thinking of, “do you two have any idea how long it has been since I went into the Crystal? Or since the Safe-Keeping was created?” 

Both shook their heads, looking dejected, “it was over a hundred years between the two, Master Harry Sir, but we do not know how long since then.” 

Harry took a deep breath… Okay… He needed some sleep, he’d been up hours before being trapped, had been at the end of his rope, and while his magic was mostly recovered, he was still physically exhausted. Or you know, it could be the stress of waking up when he did. But he needed information. The man and boys that had most likely woken him looked pretty startled, like they hadn’t meant to, but they hadn’t run screaming, called him a monster and tried to burn him at the stake, which was a good thing, but they had tried to hide him, indicating that maybe it wasn’t safe?

And the house outside the catacombs, hell the catacombs themselves, it was just as medieval as their clothes. 

“Are there any other house elves?” he asked them, and both shook their heads. 

“Not that we know of Master Harry Sir.” 

Okay, it was sad, very, but for now… “How are you two feeling? Well rested, your power okay?” 

Both nodded, “Master Teddy made sure we had good nights sleeps and plenty of rest and food in case we needed to come out swinging to protect you Master Harry Potter Sir.” 

His Godson… “Was anything else set to wake up right when I did? Or when the door opened?” 

Both elves shook their heads no. 

“Okay, great. First thing then, I am exhausted, so I am going to bring the two of you out of this room and close it just in case, and then I am going to sleep. But we need information, are you two willing to be super quiet and sneaky and see what you can see?” 

Both of them got determined little looks on their faces and nodded fiercely. “Okay, here is what I know.” He quickly briefed the two little creatures, and they nodded directly. “Can you read?” He asked them at the end. That had been a problem with some of the older house elves from particularly abusive families, but luckily both nodded. That was one hurdle down. 

He walked them out, shutting the door with a quick Patronus and a Mischief Managed, and then quickly taught the elves what little of the language that he had picked up with his notes from Robb and Jon, and then showed them the dictionary. “As a secondary goal, make a copy of this. Use materials from the Safe-Keeping if possible, if not, try to find something that will not be missed from the house above. Now, your primary goal, while I am sleeping, sneak into the keep above us. While you are up there, pick up what you can of the language while being super quiet and sneaky like I said, no one can see you at all, understand?” They both nodded fiercely, making assurances of how quiet and good they could be. “Fantastic, the ones that woke me are these ones,” he cast illusions of Ned, Robb, and Jon. “Find them first, see if you can tell from how they interact with people if they are good men or bad, and see if you can find who is important to them. Search the house and draw a map as you go, make note of any important rooms, and see how the people are treated, especially if they are servants. Overhear as much as you can while staying safe and hidden, understand?” 

Both nodded, and Harry sent them off with a wave while he settled down onto the blankets that Robb and Jon had left. They did little to soften the hard floor, but Harry still managed to force himself to sleep just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the languages, the most common language spoken in Westeros is named “the common tongue of the Andros” or Common Tongue or Common, for short. It is, for lack of a better explanation, basically American English with pseudo-medieval stuff thrown in. There aren’t really a ton of rules, as GRRM has stated that he is not a linguist. The world is supposed to be completely alternate, so that is okay because it can basically be assumed to have grown on its own. Since I need the language to have drifted and changed over time, as languages often do, I am basically using the Old Tongue as a time-drifted version of English with a distinctly Scottish and Celtic twist to it, and the Common Tongue as a newer language. High Valaryian spoken is not English, more like a combined version of several European languages, but written it still uses roughly the same letters and English as a base due to the prevalence of English in the modern (old) world due to business.


	2. Chapter Two

It was right before dawn when Jon snuck through the halls to Robb’s room and slipped inside, Ghost at his heels. He had barely slept a wink with all the excitement last night. Not just the feast, which frankly seemed rather dull in comparison to the stranger down in the catacombs. 

“Robb, you awake, brother?” He asked. 

“I am now,” growled Robb, with an accompanying huff from Grey Wind and Jon laughed a little. 

He wandered over and collapsed on his brother’s bed, laughing again as Robb gave a complaining grunt. “You’re just as sleepless as I am with all the excitement.”

“The Seven Hells I am,” Robb muttered. “I have to ride in the stupid hunt today. 50 men to kill a boar… These Southrons…” 

Jon sighed, “well, I will not be, but that just means I have to deal with being here without Father.” 

Robb made a grumbling sound before reaching up and snagging Jon about the neck, dragging him down so that he was cuddled against his brother in a way they had so rarely done since they were children no older than Bran. Back when they were less aware of the world, and even if Lady Stark disliked Jon, as long as they had each other and their Father’s love and attention, everything was okay, even if Father had to go to war to put down the Greyjoy Rebellion or whatever other errand Robert called him on in those early days after he took the Iron Throne.

Now though, the only option Jon could see was taking the Black like Uncle Benjen, especially with Father possibly going South to King’s Landing most likely for good. Lady Stark would never let him go with the party to dishonor them in front of the court, nor would he be allowed to stay in Winterfell without Father there to force the issue. Truthfully it was the one and only thing the pair ever quarreled about. For while they might be an arranged marriage, they had found love and happiness together the way that few did, and rarely disagreed or clashed over anything. 

The one exception being Jon, as much as he wished it wasn’t the case.

She was the only Mother that he had ever known, though she would curse him for saying so, and while his Father’s fierce love and pride in him along with the love of his siblings meant the world to him, they could only do so much shield him from her cold especially if they weren’t around. Maybe if Father would tell him about his own Mother, it would hurt a little less whenever Lady Stark would shower love and affection on her trueborn children, but give him the cold shoulder. 

He buried into Robb’s side. His brother, who took after his Mother with Tully looks, was fairly tall and more layered in muscle than Jon, who had more of their Father’s looks, just on a slightly slimmed down scale. Sometimes he wished he looked more like his Mother than his Father, for at least then he would have something to know her by. Still, as they both got their curls and the shape of their eyes from Father it was obvious they were family which Jon thanked the Old Gods and the Seven and every other god he could think of for that every day. Even if the Lady Stark didn’t love him, his Father and siblings did, and he knew exactly how lucky he was to have their love given the fact that the lower town was filled with Snows, and the horror stories of how bastards were treated in other keeps.

“Will you be spending the day with our mysterious Harry, then?” Robb finally asked him, and Jon made a considering hmmm. 

“I have a few duties that I need to take care of first, then I plan to sneak him a plate and see what heads or tails he’s made of the dictionary. If he’s stayed put down there, that is.” 

“I hope he’s stayed put down there,” Robb sighed. “I have no idea how we’re going to explain him, and I can only hope Father thinks of something.” Jon hmmed in agreement. “He’s so obvious, with his looks and his manners, people’ll be calling him highborn the second they see him if not something else.”

“Truly, if anything he looks more like the son of the King and Queen than the Prince does, what with that black hair of his and those green eyes. Joffrey just looks like a right prick of a Lannister,” Jon said. 

“Bite your tongue,” Robb laughed a little, and Jon grinned. Robb was far too serious half the time, but he figured that went along with being Father’s oldest, and the Heir to the Starks as well. 

On the other hand Robb often said that Jon was too serious, so who was to say for sure. 

“Things are going to be different now, no ifs about it,” Jon sighed. 

Robb made another considering noise before he ran his hand through Jon’s curls, “true, but we will always have each other.”

“Not if I take the Black,” Jon countered. “I don’t have the Stark name like Uncle Benjen to climb the ranks and get in a position to be allowed to travel.”

“You’re still my brother though, no matter what anyone says,” Robb snapped. “And I’ll make damn sure I get to see you.” 

Jon sighed, not willing to get into this type of argument with Robb again. Sometimes Robb, no matter how hard he tried, just didn’t really understand what it meant to be a bastard. Even here in Winterfell, where almost everyone loved him due to Lord Stark loving him, he still wasn’t a Stark. 

And that last name meant almost everything. 

The Wall though… Where people were judged by merit, not name… Maybe he could find a real place there. Make something of himself that his Father and siblings wouldn’t be ashamed of.

They both dozed for a little while longer, only to be woken by a pounding on the door, before it burst open and Jon sighed. “Robb! Jon!” Ugh… Theon… “Lord Stark sent me to wake you two pretty boys. Surprised me that you too had to be woken up given that you’re normally all about duty.” He side eyed them, and Robb threw a pillow at him. Jon just sighed again and pushed both Ghost and Grey Wind to the bottom of the bed so he could stand. Luckily he was already dressed and ready due to sneaking over here earlier, but he stayed to help Robb fumble into his clothes while Theon left to ‘attend to important matters’ read play fetch for people. 

The two brothers walked silently down to breakfast, leaving their puppies up in Robb’s room to catch up on sleep. Breakfast was actually a cheerful affair as Uncle Benjen dropped next to them and refused to let up, followed closely by Bran and Rickon. 

Eventually though Catelyn appeared to take Rickon for his letters lessons, which were not to be stopped even with their illustrious visitors or an earthquake. That spurred them to head for the yard, where Jon and Bran helped Robb and Benjen saddle their horses. If they spent half the time quietly laughing at how there wasn’t a single southron knight or lord saddling their own horses, well, at least no one caught them, though Lord Stark quite rightly suspected them if his raised eyebrow was anything to go by. 

With a quick wave goodbye to his brother and uncle who were waiting on the King and a hair ruffle for Bran, Jon quickly turned and headed over to the gatehouse, where he would be running through the schedules with the guards on behalf of Ser Rodrik, who found himself dragged on the hunt as well. The man and Father had given him the duty several days before with matching small smiles, and Jon had felt a buzz of warmth at their faith in him.

It was relatively calm, and this was more a same day tweaking of the schedules to cover unforeseen events, and the men there were all some of the most trusted under the Stark Banner, including Jory Cassel, who was good at giving him subtle clues via head tilt every now and again, so things went quickly and Jon felt confident the correct decisions were made. Not even Ghost wandering in halfway through slowed them down, and soon they were done and chatting lightly about some of the small issues that had popped up in between the local lads and the guard brought by the King’s party, though luckily nothing major had happened, and Jon was just about to sneak over to the kitchen and try and find some way to get food for Harry before he went to talk with the men doing the actual hunting for the dinner this evening to check the catches when Summer, Bran’s direwolf, pelted into the room and started pulling at his leg, causing Ghost to bark at him. 

Jory and Heward, who were hovering near him while the others filtered out, laughed a little while Jon tried to understand what was happening, when high pitched screams rang out over Winterfell. 

The two men stopped laughing, and all three men looked down at Summer and paled.

XxXxX

Harry woke to the smell of bacon, and a heady scent that he took for some type of ale. He blinked and looked at the plate before him, trying to decide if it was here thanks to the House Elves or Robb or Jon, then figured the house elves given that the boys would have waited and tried to talk to him most likely. He quickly polished off the bacon and the bread, then leaning back against the wall sipped at the drink which was a type of mead, not ale. 

“Skitter, Tamsy.” Both House Elves popped into the room right in front of him. “What did you two discover?” Well, Harry found out that House Elves were very quick to pick up languages when their Masters needed, as they both had a working understanding of the tongue Jon and Robb had been teaching him last night already, which was apparently called Common, commonly enough. They were in a place called Winterfell, which confirmed what Robb and Jon had written. Winterfell was the home of House Stark and the de facto capital of the North, though both Elves despaired at how dirty it was in some spots. Harry wasn’t to worry however, they hadn’t cleaned no matter how much they wanted because that wasn’t sneaky or quiet at all. 

Apparently a King was visiting the Lord of Winterfell and the North, who was Ned. Robb was his oldest son and heir, while Jon was apparently his bastard. 

Huh. 

That was interesting. 

Jon didn’t seem poorly cared for, but there had been something sad about him. Harry firmly decided to keep an eye on things to see how Jon was treated. Not only would it be a good indicator of the moral fiber of these people, but no one deserved to feel pain for an accident of birth and Harry wouldn’t hesitate to step in if needed. 

Additionally, he wasn’t sure what he felt about Ned Stark fathering a bastard. Unless he was wrong about the ages of everyone involved, Robb seemed just a bit older than Jon, so either Harry was a bad judge of ages and Jon was born earlier, or Ned had buggered someone while married, and Harry had issues with that no matter how much he figured it was probably semi-expected given the type of society he was in if history was any indication. 

Still, the people of Winterfell seemed to love and adore it’s Lord, Lady and their many children (if you added Jon there were 6 of them). Their feelings were definitely a positive sign and Harry was pleased that he’d ended up with apparently good people. Still he’d ended up with supposedly good people before, and they’d been less than true, so Harry would still need to keep an eye out. There was so much more work he’d need do in order to be sure, and to figure out what to do about the magical horde he was now guardian of.

Harry sent Skitter and Tamsy back out, making sure to remind them to return the plate to the kitchens. He himself snuck out to find a bush to do his business in, and was headed back to the catacombs and the vault to do some more messing around when Tamsy popped right in front of him, snatching him up with a “Shh!!”

Harry and Tamsy popped back out at the base of a decrepit tower. There was a small wolf at the base that barked at them, but it still seemed mainly focused on looking up the tower. Harry quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, then gazed up at where Tamsy was pointing and the wolf was focused on. There was a boy’s back , leaning half in and half out of the window up there. He looked down at Tamsy to ask what the bloody hell he was doing here, when the boy fell. 

No, when he was pushed backwards. 

Harry, barely had time to think, but was still fast enough to cast a levitation and cushioning spell on the boy to slow his fall, though he couldn’t stop it completely. The boy hit the ground fairly hard, but Harry was certain he had saved his head at least, and he was unfortunately awake as he cried out in pain. Harry quickly cast a silencing charm on him, followed by an illusion of the boy’s broken body on the ground in case whoever pushed him looked out. 

Harry rushed up and with a quick wand wave used a field medic spell to stabilize the now terrified child so that he could move him to safety. He dragged the boy right up against the castle wall and placed them under a Disillusionment Charm right in time, as the wolf began to yip and howl loudly. It wouldn’t be long until there were more people coming, quite a few most likely, not to mention whoever had pushed the boy out of the tower. Harry still wasn’t quite sure what he had gotten messed up in, and would need additional input of someone that new what the hell was going on, especially since he couldn’t communicate with the boy who looked one second from taking his eyes out despite the pain he must be in from his injuries. 

Maybe Robb or Jon would be able to explain things to the kid? 

Harry eyed the wolf that was in fact rather like the ones that followed the two older teens around last night, maybe some type of tradition in Winterfell?  Releasing the boy after shooting him a quick warning look, he dropped down to kneel in front of the wolf, catching its eyes as it was watching them even though they were disillusioned. 

Smart little thing, it would do nicely. Harry initiated a geas. It wasn’t the same as having a familiar, or even anything like Legilimency or having a snake do what you wanted with Parseltongue, but it would be close enough. “Find Jon or Robb,” he pushed pictures of the two teens into its head. “Bring them to the catacombs as fast as you can.” He pushed the route into its head, and it yipped and growled, and Harry got impressions of the Boy behind him. “He will be safe, I promise. I will protect him.” 

The wolf yipped, and then took off. Harry looked at Tamsy, who was looking at him with wide eyes. “Good job, Tamsy.” The creature beamed. “Keep watch for whoever pushed him.” Harry eyed the illusion, they didn’t have long. “Would you be able to keep up an illusion to make everyone think the boy was harmed, unconscious?” Tamsy looked consideringly, before shaking her head in shame, Harry cursed for a moment, before remembering that there had been a golem down in the tomb. “Get one of the blank golems from the tomb.” The house elf nodded, and quickly disappeared, only to reappear with the human shaped lump of clay.

Harry turned to the boy, that was staring at him and Tamsy in fear. Harry debated trying to pantomime what he planned to do or just knocking the injured and shocked boy out and dealing with him later. Maybe if Harry spoke the language it wouldn’t be too bad, but he didn’t. Maybe a compromise… With a wave of his wand Harry froze the boy with a Full Body-Bind Curse. That should prevent him from harming himself further, and still let Harry do what he needed to do before he could investigate his injuries further. 

He quickly pulled out the paper from the back of the golems throat and added his full name in order to control it, then swiping a quick slice on the boy’s arm he added a drop of the boys blood, and when he placed the paper back in the golem it took the appearance and state of the boy, injuries and all. “Pretend to be in a coma until I tell you otherwise.” He told the golem that quickly did as it was bid and Harry turned back to Bran, whose eyes were roving wildly in his frozen state. 

He doubted the boy would understand him, but still felt the need to say something. “It is okay.  I will not hurt you. Your wolf is getting Jon,” his eyes focused a bit more on Jon’s name, but it still didn’t stop him from panicking. Harry needed to get him a calming draught and take a look at his back. Harry didn’t like the wet crack that he had heard when the boy had hit the ground, especially as he wasn’t a healer. He could do what most Aurors could, maybe a little more, when it came to field healing, but that was all dedicated to try and get the injured party to the healers back wherever was safe. He didn’t know if he would be able to heal a spine. 

He cast a featherweight charm on the boy and Disapparited back to the room with the crystals. He set Bran on the pile of the blankets, “Nymph!” The wolf bounded up to him. “Guard the door! Only let Jon, Robb, or Ned in!” There was a chance someone would find them, and he wasn’t prepared to let the boy be hurt further. He quickly grabbed the dictionary and after some quick checks, scribbled on a piece of parchment.  _ Do not move! Your back hurt! I need look! Jon here soon!  _ He held the parchment in front of the Boy’s face, and waited until Bran met his eyes, and Harry was mostly sure he would comply. Keeping the parchment there, Harry released the spells on the boy. Bran kept his eyes flicking back in between the parchment and Harry, looking more than a little scared, but Harry figured the pain from his back would keep him from hurting himself too much.

He did some quick diagnostic spells, and scowled. Harry’s intervention had prevented quite a bit of the impact, but he hadn’t been able to stop all the damage. Especially on his spine. There was some obvious fracturing and swelling where he had hit the ground, and the energy flow along the spine was being diverted in several places. It wasn’t a total break, however there was definitely some broken areas. Harry scowled, he didn’t know what he’d be able to do about that level of spinal damage. It was tricky, almost as tricky as a brain. 

He quickly underlined the  _ Do not move! _ and  _ Your back hurt! _ multiple times and thrust the paper at the boy again.

Harry left the parchment floating there as he spun and ran for the vault. Hopefully there was something there he could use as a base for a potion to try and bring the swelling down, encourage healing. He opened the Safe Keeping, and darted back to where the plants were. There were a few things he remembered seeing that might be useful if he was lucky enough to figure out how to use them with his limited skills. When he got to where the plants were stored and started poking around, he found a tall cabinet that ran along a section of wall. He flung it open to see if it contained any other plants or tools, and oh my gosh, he loved his friends. 

There were a few potions stacked in status charms, and he quickly started digging through them, he found a calming draught right at the front, and there was a pile of healing potions geared towards basic injuries, magical exhaustion, and nutrition, but very little for spines. However as the cream of the crop, there were fifteen full vials of Felix Felicitous, all with a dose worth an entire day. More than he’d ever be able to safely drink, in truth.

Harry bit his lip, before snagging one. He was going to have to try and wing this, he could use all the luck he could get.

He removed the stasis spell and downed over half the bottle. Enough to try and heal the boy for sure and get through the first day of his recovery, and he corked the rest and slipped it into his pocket. The potion took a moment to kick in, but when it did Harry then closed his eyes and snagged a healing potion, and quickly headed back to the boy. He pulled the spells off the healing potion and calming draught and set them on the ground next to the boy, nudging them towards him. He was getting the sense that he needed to have the boy drink them before Harry tried to heal him, which he was going to do. Harry just smiled at him and sat patiently, waiting calmly. 

Suddenly there were yips from the hall, and Harry turned to see Jon run in, Ghost and the other pup Harry had sent after him fast on his heels.

“Jon, tell him it’s alright and to drink please?” Harry called out, just as the boy cried out to Jon as well. Jon rushed forward to kneel beside them, and Jon and the kid quickly traded some sharp words. Jon was white as a ghost and obviously terrified, but Harry could feel it would work out. He carefully inched the potions closer to the boy again as Bran showed Jon the note that Harry had made. 

Jon paled even further reading the words, looking to Harry and then at the potions, as if trying to figure out where they came from, before he caught sight of the giant open door at the top of the steps. Harry smiled encouragingly and Jon swallowed, then nodded at the boy, saying something. Probably to take the potions, given that the boy cautiously reached out and took them, specifically the calming drought that Harry edged forward again, and downed it. Harry laughed a little as he gagged at the taste, but it worked quickly and the boy then quickly downed the healing draught, which was basically a general restorative. 

Harry then pulled out the Elder wand and carefully, ever so carefully, fed as much magic to the boy as he could, specifically aiming towards the spine. In between the potion and Harry’s healing, he managed to speed up the bone regrowth and settle the injury. It wasn’t completely better, and they’d need to see how much mobility he would eventually regain which would require quite a bit of physical therapy, but it was as good as it was going to get given these conditions. 

There was a few thousand ways that this could still go wrong, he figured. Given the sheer fragility of the spine it was doubtful that his fix would last unless it was given time to properly heal, hence why he had the feeling he would need to either keep the kid semi-loaded up on calming draughts for about a week or tied to a bed to keep him from moving too much. Honestly he’d prefer the second, while there was a pretty solid stash of calming draughts, he’d rather save them for himself just in case. Heck that was probably what his friends had probably left them for - just in case he was half mad or something from being trapped in the Crystal. 

Still, he motioned for Jon to keep the boy sitting and headed back to the safe keeping. He poked around until he found a particularly tight piece of armor that would fit well around the boys lower back, and brought it out. Jon and the boy were exchanging a few words that mainly seemed to be the elder trying to get the younger to say something. Harry interrupted and waved at Jon to help him carefully maneuver the boy so that he could slip the armor piece on. He tightened it, securing the spine against too much movement while it finished healing. He had the sense that this was about the best that he was going to be able to do, and settled back. 

He wasn’t feeling too much pressure to do anything quite yet, so he watched as Jon and the boy spoke back and forth fairly quickly. Harry finally got a little bored sitting on the side though, and waved a hand, pointing it at himself from the boy’s direction. “Harry,” he said, and the boy finally pointed at himself and said “Bran,” at Jon’s nudging insistence. Hopefully whatever Bran was explaining would not paint Harry in too bad of a light, though there was always the chance. Harry snagged the dictionary to try and figure out how to explain what happened from his own point of view while the other two talked, but there just didn’t seem to be the right words, even with the help from the luck potion. 

Speaking of, Harry felt the need to go close the door to the safe keeping, so he got up suddenly and did. The hidden door had just finished sliding shut when he got the urge to get Jon and Bran up and take them out of the Crypt, so he ushered the teen up and had him carry Bran as he quickly lead the way, the wolf pups all following them. He cast a Disillusionment Charm on them just before they entered the sunlight, and snuck them back through the keep, following Felix’s pull. 

There was wailing coming from what Harry assumed was the living quarters, most likely it was over the golem. He stopped Jon from taking Bran there, however, as it felt wrong right now. He pulled them towards the inner gate, side stepping the multitudes of guards and servants that were rushing about. He caught some motion from his left out of the corner of his eye and saw two blondes stalking in through one of the side gates to the yard. He felt a slight pull in their direction, but there was a stronger pull out of the main yard, so Harry quietly cast a recording spell on Nymph and sent her after the two.

He then finished dragging Jon and Bran through the keep until they came across a wood sheltered in the middle of the castle. He pushed them in and waved at the white tree in the center, glaring at Jon until he gave in and went there, setting Bran down carefully, and dropping to his knees by him to hover like a mother hen. Harry gestured for them to stay and quickly stalked back out, he was being drawn to the front gate, so he went there and hovered for a few minutes, only moving once when he took a few steps over as he felt the urge. 

Felix Felicitous was useful, but he wished it could be more precise in giving him hints about why he needed to do things. 

Still he was well positioned to see when several horses and riders came pelting full tilt up the road towards the castle. There was a crazy haste about them, and as soon as they were in close enough visual range he recognized Ned and Robb surrounded by what were most likely their guards. They rushed their horses through the door, and swung off before the animals had even finished pulling to a halt. A man ran out to meet them, shouting quickly, and Ned and Robb both looked increasingly pale with every word said. The boy, Bran, did bare a passing resemblance to Robb and was obviously close to Jon, mayhaps their brother? Which would have Ned be his Father. 

Harry felt the need to drop his disillusionment charm for a second, and did so with absolutely perfect timing to catch Robb’s attention while everyone else was looking in a different direction. He gave a quick jerk of his head towards the wood. Robb looked in one part torn and another just plain pissed off, but Harry insistently jerked his head again and replaced the Disillusionment charm, then headed towards the wood. He heard quick, sure footsteps after him, and made himself visible again for just a moment, leading Robb on a merry chase to the wood, where he practically shoved the red headed teen at Jon and Bran who both started speaking rather hurriedly at him. 

Less than a minute later and Ned flew in after Robb, a stormy look upon his face, only to come up short as he took in the sight of Bran cradled in Jon’s arms beneath the white tree. Bran had barely gotten a few words out to his Father, whose eyes were wide and terrified in a way he recognized from the Weasley’s or the Tonks’. From good parents when their children were injured.

Before he could contemplate that, Harry felt a tug that indicated danger in a different direction, and turning in a rush that caught all their attention, Disillusioned himself to take care of it. As he approached the area of the tug, he spotted one of the men in the gold and red livery sneaking closer to where they had been talking. Felix was generally indicating to handle this quickly and with no qualms, so Harry cast a Stunning Spell and knocked the man on his arse. “We have company!” He called a warning to the others, though he didn’t feel anyone else near. Robb rushed over to him and stared wide eyed at the unconscious man at Harry’s feet before he helped him drag him to the wood at Harry’s insistence. Ned and Jon both looked just as shocked as Robb had, and Harry wondered if he really looked that helpless.  

While the three that woke him shared a few more sharp words, Harry got the urge to use Legilimency on the stunned man to learn the language, and balked a little. You could definitely use Legilimency to learn other languages if someone was willing to let you read it from their mind, but it could be very dangerous and was altogether not something you just ripped out of someone’s head, but Felix was practically screaming at him at this point. 

Harry hesitantly knelt near the man, not sure he wanted to do this, but Felix practically hit him over the head with the urge to do it now. 

“Damnit,” Harry hissed. He waved Robb over, and dragged the teen down to hold the man’s shoulders. Robb made a questioning noise and pulled his hands back. Harry cursed again, glaring at him and grabbing his hands and putting them back on the shoulders where he needed them. Ned said something, and Robb’s gaze hardened and he pushed the man down properly. Harry nodded firmly and wandlessly Ennervated the man, who woke with a start. Luckily he was no match for Robb’s strength, and Harry grabbed the terrified man’s head in between his hands and met his eyes dead on.

The man’s mind was disgusting.

It felt like crawling through slime, and there was not a clean path that he could find, but Harry steeled his stomach and dove down further. There were a few thousand things that pulled at Harry’s attention, but Harry mainly focused on the language to start out, digging and digging until he had at least a grasping knowledge. He pulled out of the man’s mind with a curse, and didn’t quite realize that he’d cursed in Common until that everyone but the filth before him stared at him in shock. 

Harry didn’t know what to do, but he felt the need to go back in, this time with a flash of the blonde man and woman. He swallowed, working up the guts to do so, and he had to lean over a throw up a little just to get the urge to vomit out of the way. Once that was done, Harry grabbed the man again and dove in once more with the image of the blondes that kept plaguing him. 

There was a very real chance that he would damage the man’s mind given how far he would need to delve. Especially as he wasn’t a Master Legilimens by any means. The only reason he’d been able to get the language was that he could brute force his way in and the dose of Felix. Still he could tell that they definitely needed more information. Something bad was happening, and Harry was their best chance at getting information from what he could tell, especially given how hard Felix was pushing him. 

Harry picked and prodded with his new understanding of the language and the megre insight that gained on the culture from that. It let him run through the memories in the man’s mind, and for the most part understand them. The man, Caster Janfel, was the 4 th son of a knight in the service of the Lannisters, specifically at the moment Cersei, the Queen, and unofficially her brother Jaime, the two blondes he was after. They were dark, dangerous shadows in the man’s mind, and they had ordered him to follow Ned when he stalked off after Robb. They had wanted to know what would drive Ned away from the direction of his son whom his wife was weeping over. 

Strange, that they had known it was his son, when Caster and many of the other bannermen didn’t, though they knew that something horrible had happened. 

Lord Tywin’s twins were sleek and deadly, lions both in their pride and their indolent assurance that they would be obeyed. Their Father cast an even bigger shadow in Caster’s mind. No way to pull back from that shadow, it would eat you alive. Eat you alive or burn you or rape you to death or any number of horrible, terrible things. His own son Tyrion was barely safe from him, and he shared his blood. 

Harry felt himself drowning in the man… In his fear. He finally forced himself out with a gasp, and shoved away from Robb and Caster to throw up again.

There was definitely something going on with the two, he saw dozens of little interactions through Caster’s mind. Saw them plot and plan and flout all rules with nary a care, secure in their power and their money. Saw the way that the oldest Prince, Joffrey, made any wise man in his gaze tremble with fear for his wicked, thoughtless, callousness. 

How some of the older servants would compare the cruelty of Joffery to the Mad King as a child. 

How the Princes and Princess seemed all Lannister, and no Baratheon. 

Something… Something was pulling at him. Harry cursed again in Westron. He wasn’t making the connections yet that Felix wanted, but he didn’t think that he needed to go in again. Not only was it disgusting, but he’d probably shred Caster’s mind. Not that the man didn’t likely deserve something for some of the crimes he’d seen him commit, especially since he got the sense that the justice system of this time was decidedly skewed. Still, he cast a wandless Stunner at Caster again, knocking him out once more. 

Robb quickly released the man in shock, staggering back to his Father’s side. 

“Well,” Harry stated calmly, turning to face Ned, Jon, Robb, and Bran a little more clearly. He’d have to determine the amount of mental damage done to Caster later. Getting them all calmed down and on the same page came first. “As a bonus, I now speak the language.” 

“What in the name of the gods?” Ned said, his eyes dark and dangerous around the edges, his hand inching toward the blade at his waist. 

Best to nip that in the bud. Harry waved at Caster. “I can see into men’s minds to a degree. It’s dangerous to do it in any depth for both parties,” he waived at where he’d vacated the contents of his stomach, “so I didn’t want to pull the language from any of you when we had time.” Harry staggered to his feet. “But as I was going to find out what he knew anyway since he followed us I figured I would kill two birds with one stone.” Harry looked down at Caster. “I don’t think that I hurt his mind too badly though, I’ll need to check later. Still that isn’t the important thing right now.”

He met Ned’s eyes, and prepared to use every trick he’d picked up as Head Auror and ounce of Felix luck to get out of this. “There are these two blondes, I got from Caster’s mind that they’re the Queen and her brother?” Ned nodded, getting caught up in what Harry was saying in spite of himself. “They were suspicious so I had Nymph tracking them. They were the ones that sent the man after us. They knew that it was your son that was attacked without word having spread that far, Ned.” 

The lingering courtesy from Caster kept pinging him to say Lord Stark and show the proper subservience, but Harry promptly flipped that the finger.

“It was th-” Bran hesitated. “Father!” he finally whispered, tearing up, and Harry blinked. Had they...

“Bran?” Ned asked.

Bran shook his head quickly. “I saw…” He froze a little, and looked downright scared. “Father I don’t-“ his fingers twisted in his sleeves, and Jon looked concerned. It was obvious that whatever Harry had missed while not speaking the language when the two of them were going back and forth, Bran hadn’t told Jon whatever he was considering telling his Father about.

“Tell me, Bran,” Ned said. 

“I was climbing on the tower, and I got up to the window and there…” 

Ned knelt before his son, taking his tiny hands in his own. Harry glanced away and took a deep breath. It was far too much like back when he’d taken Teddy’s when the boy was worried about the reception he’d receive at Hogwarts. “Whatever happened Bran, you can tell me. Whatever you’re scared of, I’ll protect you.” 

Bran met his Father’s eyes. “But, they, they’re powerful, Father.”

Harry was sure that he wasn’t the only one getting a bad feeling about this.  

“Then they’ll be well fed and taste better for the direwolves,” Robb joked a little, and Bran startled out a laugh, which made the rest of them ease up a bit. 

It really wasn’t a joking matter, but laughter was often the best medicine. Speaking of, Harry felt the need to do a quick check on Bran then, this time with visuals, so he knelt by Bran and Jon again. He slipped his holly wand from his sleeve holster and carefully ran it over the boy. He allowed an illusion of the spine and muscles to show. And he pointed the damage out to Ned. 

“I’m not sure how accurately this translates, but this is what I can tell you. I wasn’t fast enough to stop the fall when he was pushed, merely able to slow it a bit and prevent him from hitting the ground as hard. See here,” he pointed to the back of the head, where there was just a small bump. “He’d have been in a coma for sure, and the way he arched when he fell,” he pointed along the spine, and even without knowing much anatomy, the damage was obvious. “Well, I was able to soften the blow. He’ll still have some trouble walking, how much we won’t know until later after the swelling goes down, but it’s better than the paralysis that would have happened if he’d hit the ground full force. I’m not an expert in healing or spinal damage though, so we may want someone else to take a look just in case, but honestly from what I gather of your medical knowledge, it’s a bit less advanced than mine, so it might even out.”

Ned swallowed, staring at the floating picture of his son’s insides. Jon and Robb both looked a little sick, but Bran seemed relatively entranced, though he was under the effects of a Calming Draught, so Harry didn’t count that as much. 

“You say he was pushed?” Ned finally asked. 

Harry shrugged. “That’s what it looked like from a ways out. Still, I felt the need to illusion his body there before I could leave a golem with the injuries he would have sustained had I not interfered, then get him to safety. Something felt wrong.”

Ned swallowed. “I take it the wailing from my wife and the others is over the golem?” Harry shrugged, it was likely, but he couldn’t say for sure. Ned turned back to Bran. “Son, were you pushed?”

Bran got even more cagey, and Jon hugged him a little tighter, “he hasn’t said anything about it, but I think he did. And given what he saw…”

Ned turned to Jon. “What did he see?”

Jon shrugged, “something that scared him, though he wouldn’t tell me what.” 

Ned finally released one of Bran’s hands, and pet his hair lightly. “Bran, I need you to tell me what happened.” 

“This will hurt us, won’t it?” Bran asked. Harry bit his lip. 

“Bran, I need you to tell me the truth, please. If there is a threat to our House, I need to know what it is,” Ned ran a gloved hand through his son’s hair once more and the boy finally nodded. 

“I was climbing, I saw The Queen and her brother… They were…” The boy blushed red, and Harry gagged a little when he got the connotation. He got echoes from Caster’s mind that that wasn’t entirely unheard of, but it was certainly not exactly the norm. Harry on the other hand found it pretty gross. The wizarding world pushed his muggle raised boundaries with the cousins intermarrying to keep the “lines pure” but he swallowed it since for the most part it didn’t affect him and thanks to magic the inbreeding didn’t seem to impact people too badly (except for possibly the Black madness, or the generally low birth rates according to Hermione), but brother and sister? Well, to each their own he guessed, but ugh. 

Ned and the others finally got it, and they all looked taken aback a bit. “The Queen and her brother? Well, that’s a match made in the seven hells,” Jon said. 

“So you saw them, and they pushed you?” Ned asked. 

“I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, but the Queen, she…” Bran looked sacred and stuttered to a stop. Jon hugged him tighter, and Ned ran his hand through the boy’s hair comfortingly a few more times. Dinally Bran looked up and met his Father’s eyes once more. “So the Kingslayer, he pushed me out the window,” Bran looked over at Harry. “Something slowed me at the end, and then he was there and he made it so I couldn’t move or talk and there was… It looked like me on the ground, except a lot more hurt. Then he made Summer go away, for Jon?” Jon nodded at Ned in confirmation. “Then there was this thing, and it brought up a doll and he made it look like me and put it where the other thing was and then were we in the crypts and Jon came.” 

Jon nodded, “Father, I swear Summer got to me and I was headed for Lady Stark’s screams after I sent Jory after you and had Heward call up all the guards just in case, but Summer kept tugging me towards the crypts, and Ghost helped him. I found Bran with Harry.” 

Harry could see he wanted to say more about the door, but he interjected, “I brought them up here after I stabilized Bran, I had a feeling we needed to let you know.” Now wasn’t the time to reveal or deal further with the magic stash below, though it would need to be soon.

“How did you know about the Godswood, you led us right here?” Jon asked, him. “I thought we told you to stay put? Not that I’m not more grateful than I can say that you didn’t for Bran’s sake…” 

“Skitter!” Harry called. The House Elf popped in right in front of him, startling the three oldest of his companions.

Bran on the other hand just pointed, crying out, “That’s the thing! But it was dressed different!” 

Harry nodded. “This is Skitter,” Skitter sketched a fine bow when he heard his name. “He and Tamsy, who helped me save Bran earlier, they were hidden with me and woke when I did. Tamsy was the one who spotted the danger Bran was in and called me to help. She should currently be tailing the Queen and her brother, and I sent Nymph after them as well before I knew that specifically, as they seemed suspicious sneaking in.” 

“Nymph?” Robb asked. 

Harry nodded, “She’s my wolf, like your Grey Wind, Ghost, and Summer.” 

“She’s about Grey Wind’s size, and gold. Looks like the direwolf on the lock,” Jon added. 

Harry nodded, “that’s her.”

Ned looked like he was going to question both that and the little creature now in front of him further, but shook his head. “Right, we’ll deal with that later. First, what to do about the Queen and her brother.” He cast one more soft look at Bran, running his hand through his hair before standing and meeting Robb’s eyes and hard, hard expression overcame his face. “I need to tell Robert.” Harry was pretty sure that was the King.

Robb nodded, swallowing, and he regarded at his siblings. Bran, while he seemed a little scared, was still mostly calm under the effects of the draught, but Jon’s eyes were wide, though there was a determined appearance as he pulled Bran even closer, though Harry wouldn’t have thought that possible. 

There were three other children, from what he remembered. 

“I would wait,” Harry interjected, at a feeling. “What I got from his head,” he waived at Caster’s unconscious form, “is that most of the people on this trip are loyal to the Lannisters more than the King.” Ned shot him a dark, questioning look, and Harry shrugged. “I can’t tell for sure, I just got a quick glance so the information likely isn’t perfect, but it’s enough for me to recommend caution.” 

“Can you look again?” 

Harry shook his head, “if I dig any more out of his head, I’ll damage it. And going as deep as I’d need to know 100% would knock me out longer than we can afford, I think.” Best to establish a weakness, even if it isn’t entirely true. Throwing up earlier had likely helped that, whatever the cause.

Ned looked at the unconscious soldier that Harry had pulled information out of. “Can you do that to any man?”

Harry shrugged, “anyone not trained to keep me out, and I doubt the ability to hide your thoughts has been passed down however many years it’s been.” 

“Starks have guarded that door for at least 8,000 years,” Ned told him, and it hit Harry like a punch in the gut. 

“8,000 years?” He asked, just a little out of sorts. Ned nodded, and Harry put that in his growing pile of things to scream about later. “Well, that answers the question on if I would be able to find any of my friends or family…” 

The others weren’t sure what to say, and Bran just looked a little confused still, but Harry just sighed and shook his head. Scream and cry later, attempted murder of a kid now, especially since something was pushing at him from the Felix Felicitous, telling him that he needed to focus on those two blondes banging, which… again gross... “Okay, so walk me through things, I get from this guy that sleeping with a sibling isn’t completely unheard of, and I get that adultery is maybe frowned upon? But I got images of tons of little black haired bastards of the King’s floating around, so is it just the double standard of it being because she’s a woman? What’s the reason to kill to protect that secret?”

Jon cringed, and Harry then remembered what Tamsy and Skitter had said earlier about Jon being a bastard. 

“I am not sure what you mean by double standard?” Ned hedged, “But yes, it would be bad for the Queen to be having an affair as it brings into question the line of succession, and if all three aren’t his, line theft as well. Robert may have many bastards, but as they are not born of the Queen, they are obviousl-” Ned froze. His eyes focusing on Harry once more, then turning down to the unconscious man at his feet again. “You said he saw black haired bastards of the King’s?”

“Lots of them,” Harry shrugged. 

“All black haired?” 

Harry nodded. “Seemed he’d tailed a few of them for the Queen or Prince every now and then, but again, that is a high level scan, you want detail, it can be dangerous for him and me, and I refuse to leave vegetables in my wake.” 

“Can you check any of the other guards without them knowing, without being suspicious? See if they saw the same thing? Even at a high level it would be enough, I think,” Ned asked, and there was a dangerous look on his face, something black and bloody that reminded Harry of Sirius whenever Snape insulted his Dad. 

“I could, if I don’t go to deep I should be able to avoid being sick, but I absolutely need eye contact for as long as possible. It’s easier if they’re asked a question too, that way I can at least tell if they’re being truthful or not. It also creates an excuse for why they are remembering things, as whenever I search a mind they see what I see.” 

Ned nodded, “I know I have little right to ask, especially given the great service that you have already done my house by saving my son, but can you check the minds of the guards, of as many as possible? See if you can picture more of Robert’s bastards, it is of vital importance.” 

Harry shrugged, “sure,” he got a hint. “He’s helping,” he pointed at Jon. “He can maybe ask how bastards are treated in the Capital, that’ll give them a reason to be remembering, and I can catch their eyes.” 

Ned looked uncomfortable with it, and there was something knocking at Harry’s mind with his Felix boost but also just with his intuition, however before Ned could say anything Jon jumped in. “I’m fine, Father. I can do it. I don’t mind it, especially if it’s important. I promise I won’t let you down.”

There was a fleeting emotion over Ned’s face for just a moment, and then he sighed. “I know you won’t. Do it, but be careful for-”

“Master Harry sir!” Skitter suddenly interrupted, right about the time something slammed into Harry’s Felix heightened senses. “Someone comes!” It was said in English, not Common, but still the others got the jist. Harry quickly waved Skitter away and he vanished with a quiet pop. Robb and Ned both reaching for their swords. 

“Company!” Harry hissed in confirmation, following his instinct and after Disillusioning Caster he quickly dropped next to Jon and Bran. He held a finger to his lips for silence, and covered them in a Disillusionment Charm as well. 

Right after they vanished, a man in black who looked a bit like Ned, just liether and with slightly darker hair, stalked into the wood, a worried look on his face, though he stopped up short when he saw both Ned and Robb with their hands on their blades. “Ned! What in the Gods names - when you rushed off the hunt, then we got here and heard the news I expected to find you near your son’s side, not in the wood.” 

“Benjen,” Ned glanced at where Harry was hiding Jon and Bran, before shaking his head. “I needed a moment to gather my thoughts. I would have been little good to Cate.” 

Benjen looked suspicious of that, but Harry wasn’t getting the sense that he should reveal himself or the others, and Ned appeared to be taking his lead from things. Finally Benjen snapped in an almost censuring tone, “well, you need to get moving, Brother. Your wife is weeping over your likely to die son. Do your duty as her husband and Bran’s Father.” 

Ned nodded, and strode off with Robb at his back, and Benjen followed them, though the man glanced around the wood once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter hasn't been beta'd... Please let me know if you spot any errors! :) Thanks!


	3. Chapter Three

Once Harry, Jon, and Bran were alone in the God’s Wood Harry dropped the Disillusionment Charm, “Skitter, follow them. Let me know what happens and if there appear to be any problems with the golem.”

Skitter popped back for just a moment to nod before disappearing again. 

“Okay,” he looked at Caster, then over at Jon. “We have two options, I can try to modify his memory of this, or I can take him prisoner and hide him for a bit. Your choice.” 

Jon swallowed, “Prisoner. We’ll let my Father decide his ultimate fate.” Harry nodded and cast a Petrificus Totalus on the man, before Disapparating him to the room Harry had been hiding in. It was short work to find a trunk with multiple compartments and toss the man in, locking it tight. 

After that he popped back up to Bran and Jon, but he wasn’t getting any particular feelings so tilted his head, “we can’t let Bran be seen. Can you stay hidden here, or should we get you back to the catacombs?”

Bran looked like he wanted to stay up here, but Jon quickly shook his head. “The catacombs are safer, people will probably be here soon to pray for his swift recovery.” 

Harry nodded, and quickly grasped them to Disapparated them there. After they made sure that Bran was as comfortable as possible with the blankets that Jon had brought earlier (something warning Harry against conjuring more or pulling something out of the back room just yet) though both Bran and Jon were aware of it. Summer and Ghost both curled up with Bran before Harry lead Jon up the long way. “It makes a really loud crack when you land, and we’re trying to be sneaky. Plus I have to have been to a place before I can Apparate there, that or pull the destination from someone’s mind when we Side-Along Apparate, though that does have its risks of splinching.” 

They moved through, and Jon dragged Harry up to his room to borrow some clothes so he blended in at least a little. Jon however, had some height on Harry, and quite a bit of muscle mass. The woolen shirt and pants and dark leathers hung loosely on Harry, no matter how much they tightened the straps, and Harry cast a few subtle shrinking charms on the things and most especially the boots when Jon turned to get another belt, and ultimately it worked out. Still the whole ensemble was bulkier and heavier than Harry was used to, more reminiscent of his most stiff and formal Auror’s robes with 50 pound weights attached than anything else he had ever worn. And even with the shrinking charms and the belts and everything else, they still fit oddly as they were tailor made for someone with a bigger build than him. 

Harry scowled, “how old are you, again?” 

“17 name days,” Jon smiled, “you?” 

Harry resisted the urge to throw something at the brat. “29 name days.” 

Jon stared at him in shock. His mouth opened and closed. He looked Harry up and down from feet to his wild hair and back. “You barely look older than me and Robb!” 

Harry sighed, and shoved his clothing (most especially his invisibility cloak) into his expanded bag to Jon’s wide eyed shock. He tied the small bag to his belt, making sure the anti-pickpocket spells were on it, before he waved Jon out of the room. “It’s a thing. We should get moving.”

They headed down to the yard, and Harry let his Felix guided judgement pick out the guards to hit up for information. By the 5th, Harry’s understanding of the language was pretty solid, if a bit Southern, and he’d seen more black haired bastard children than you could shake a stick at. Robert Baratheon was nothing if not prolific.

Additionally, he was now firmly aware of the fact this age was vile, sexist, unjust, and quite horrible for anyone not a Lord, Lady, or other Noble, and even quite a few people that were.

And Harry really wanted to go home.

By the 10th, Harry was fairly certain that there was barely a single honest man or woman in the entirety of the nobility and all their assorted banner men.

Harry had even tagged a couple that were monsters enough that his Auror skills, saving people thing, and sheer humanity were calling him to put in the ground, and he was a damn bleeding heart that generally aimed more for the alive part of the ‘Dead or Alive’ parts of wanted posters. 

“Okay, that’s enough. I see anymore and I’m putting myself back to hibernation with a sledgehammer to the face,” Harry finally sighed. Jon tilted his head questioningly, and Harry shuddered. “You are either ridiculously sheltered, or have far more faith in humanity than I do if you don’t understand why I don’t want anything to do with people right now.” 

Jon looked taken aback, and was about to say something when Harry got a rather immediate Felix guided luck pull in another direction. Harry quickly followed the strong tug, and in his rush literally ran into a huge man (was he part giant?) with burn scars along the side of his face. There was something about him, but no… Not quite what the pull was dragging him to.

“I apologize for running into you, sir,” he said, with a quick tilt of his head. 

“Think nothing of it, young man, with the bad news everyone is it quite the hurry.” Harry glanced down and met the eyes of a dwarf, the human kind rather than an actual dwarf from the continent. (oh Merlin, the continent didn’t exist anymore and everything was different and were there still dwarves or goblins or-) Felix smacked him upside the head and Harry blinked and skimmed his mind.

Well, here was someone that renewed his faith just a tad. The man, though a plotter and a relatively selfish shit, did generally give a damn about others, including the wellbeing of the realm as it assured his own safety. 

Huh. 

The man also suspected foul play in regards to Bran. 

The way his thoughts twisted around his brother and sister, well, it somehow gave Harry an even worse impression of the other Lannisters save the youngest two children. And Jaime Lannister apparently wasn’t a complete monster, which was odd given that he could kill a child.

That was a contradiction that would need to be looked at. 

Harry nodded to the Lannister, but before he could say anything, Jon quickly interjected. “Thank you for your kindness, Lord Tyrion, Ser Clegane, we were just going to try and track down Summer, Bran’s direwolf. They thought it might do him some good, and as the pup isn’t fully trained yet, they don’t want it to get lost.” 

“Yes, a boy and his direwolf, how sweet,” the dwarf almost murmured, eyeing Harry up and down. “I’m sorry, I know you, Snow, but I don’t think that we’ve been acquainted, young man? Lord Tyrion Lannister.” The dwarf looked in Harry’s direction, and Harry blinked. Why would he care about Harry... ah, the clothes, though still slightly ill fitting, were well enough made that they marked him as of a higher class or favored by someone that was, and Tyrion prided himself on knowing everyone of importance.

“No one special, just Harry, my Lord,” he said with deep nod. The man’s eyes narrowed just a smidge at him, and suddenly Harry felt like he was the one having his mind opened and laid bare for just a moment himself, before the man nodded.

“Well, you two had best be off to look for that pup,” as he wasn’t getting any more Felix prods, Harry gave a slight bow and bolted off in the direction that he had been heading when he ran into Clegane. 

“What was that about?” Jon hissed at him after they had turned the corner. 

Harry shrugged. “A feeling.” 

“A feeling? For running into the Hound and the Imp?” Harry shrugged again. 

He was on a luck potion, though Jon didn’t know it. Everything was a gut feeling that would aide him right now. Though, that did bring up the feeling he had had earlier in the Godswood before Benjen had interrupted them again, so Harry decided to do a little digging. “A feeling. Kind of like the thing that tells me something else fishy is going on here. Even with what happened to Bran there are so many little things that just don’t add up, Jon. Things that make no sense.”

Jon sighed, “Like what?” 

“Like you,” he faced Jon directly, and to give the boy credit even though he knew what Harry could do he had no qualms meeting his eyes. “I mean, I have very limited insight, but so far Ned seems to be pretty much the best Lord out of the lot. I get nothing but honesty and honor from him, until you come into things.”

Jon cringed back. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I have issues with adultery in general, but nothing against kids born out of wedlock themselves. Still you do not make sense. It has nothing to do with you and more the broken marriage oath that would have had to have happened to have you.”

Jon finally got up a little in arms, got his dander up. “I don’t see what any of it has to do with you.” 

“Just getting the lay of the land really. I am in a dark and dangerous world, in a time I don’t fully understand, and after the tour of depravity I took though those guards minds, well, Ned Stark seems to be the best bet for an honest man, but I am still trying to figure out what’s what. Who to trust.”

Jon glared at him. “You can trust my Father. I don’t know who my Mother was, he never told me. But he brought me back from the war when he didn’t have to and he’s never treated me with anything other than the same love and kindness he’s given his trueborn heirs. He’s a good, kind lord, whom his people love and he’s stood as true and strong a defender of the North that there ever was. I may not know what happened to cause my birth, but I would die defending Ned Stark a thousand times over.” 

Harry threw up his hands a little in surrender, “I get it, I don’t need to read your mind to tell you’re telling the truth. And War? Was that, still trying to figure out the timelines here, and there’s no standard education so all the idiots I just pulled info from learned it slightly differently, but, Robert’s Rebellion?”

Jon still eyed him, though nodded at the change of subject. “Yes.” 

“I didn’t get the impression from our interactions that Ned Stark was the kind to go around betraying King’s either, though I do get the sense the former was quite crazy?” 

“The former King, King Aerys, was called the Mad King. He burned my Grandfather alive and choked my Uncle to death. And his son Prince Rheagar, kidnapped my Aunt Lyanna. My Father went to war for revenge for the first and to save my Aunt.”

Most of that pinged on Harry’s Felix sense as okay, but that part of the kidnapping felt sour. “But it’s Robert on the throne?”

Jon shrugged, “Robert was the head of the rebellion with Jon Aryn, though my Father won many of the victories. It was Robert that brought down Rheagar. He was also my Aunt’s intended.” 

Harry thought that if Lyanna was smart, she wouldn’t have been looking forward to that marriage at all.

“Hmm,” Harry sighed. “Why wasn’t Ned down South more if he was so pivotal in the victory?” When it had come to his defeat of Voldemort, almost everyone that had been even remotely involved had started getting job offers practically thrown at them, especially given how many people in prominent positions had been tossed in Azkaban after and the flurry of promotions and newly created opportunities around that. 

Jon shook his head, “no telling. But the King is asking Father to be his Hand now that Jon Aryn is dead. And there’s talk they’re even thinking of marrying Sansa and Prince Joffrey.”

Harry didn’t think that match would work out well either, especially if the whispered comparisons between the Mad King’s childhood and Joffrey’s held true. The question was how Ned and his wife would take that feedback… On the topic of madness though… 

“And the Mad King’s madness, was it hereditary? How many in his line had it?”

“They said that when a Targaryen was born the gods would flip a coin, and you’d either get brilliance or madness.”

“And his son Rheagar was mad?”

Jon shrugged, “he would have had to be to kidnap my Aunt and think he could get away with it.” 

Hmm… The Felix kept stabbing in at that, but he just couldn’t quite make the connection. Maybe he was missing some of the information? 

Given the way that the Felix was harassing him though, he should be able to get this. Before he could dwell on it much longer though, Harry had the sudden urge to get Jon down to the catacombs, so he grabbed him and started to pull him there, only to have Jon pull away from him with a vicious yank. “Enough of this dragging me about!” Harry blinked at him. What? Normally when Felix Felicitous was in play, luck would stay on Harry’s side and things would fall into place, and they needed to be in the catacombs now. Why, how, was Jon fighting him? It hadn’t been long enough for his dose to wear off.

As if to reinforce that, the Felix pinged him for the catacombs again. “The catacombs, we need to be there.” 

“Right,” Jon blinked. “We need to get Summer and bring it up to the golem for appearances sake. Anyone with a brain will know that there is a problem if he isn’t with Bran.” 

That wasn’t quite it, but Harry was willing to take what he could get.

They quickly moved through the keep down to the catacombs until they reached the room that Harry was starting to call Crystal Fall in his head. It was much better than his tomb. 

He wasn’t dead, even if he should be. 

They got there and Jon went to Bran, who was thankfully asleep, and began the bothersome task of trying to get Summer to leave the boy. The direwolf was snapping and growling lowly at Jon while digging his claws into the blankets surrounding his charge. Even Ghost was side eyeing Jon oddly, like he couldn’t understand why Jon was trying to separate the two. Harry could geas the direwolf again, but didn’t mention that. There was something here that he needed to do, that he needed Jon here for, though he wasn’t sure what.

He called his Patronus and opened the door to the Safe Keeping, turning to glance at Jon, the action drawing his attention away from Bran and Summer. Harry eyed him and stepped into the Safe Keeping, moving forward waiting for Felix to stop him. He heard Jon’s footsteps following after him, and kept moving until the teen was at the door, and Harry heard him gasp. He turned and faced him, taking in the picture he made with Ghost hovering behind him. 

“This is all that is left of the old magic. It was hidden here with me when the world changed. It’s here to be protected. Your Father, your family, have helped guard this even if you didn’t know.” His head tilted. “And something in here is calling to be given to you, to your family in repayment for keeping me safe, though I can’t tell what yet.”

“Really?” Jon asked in the snide, bitchy way only an exhausted, pissy teenager could, and Harry laughed. Jon almost immediately back pedaled, looking, for lack of a better phrase, freaked out.

“It’s all right!” Harry told him. 

Jon sighed, “no it really isn’t.” 

“Hmmm,” Harry turned back to the room, giving Jon time to pull himself together. The pull of the Felix Felicitous was in the direction of both a stash of weapons and other trinkets, then the animals towards the back. Harry figured that Jon would be more interested in weaponry first, especially given he already had what could only be a familiar in Ghost, same as all the other Stark children. They’d take care of finding gifts for the family and then find out what animal was calling. “Let’s see,” oddly he was first drawn to a delicate necklace of five golden phoenixes curled around red gold roses that definitely wouldn’t fit Jon, but just might fit one of the girls that Harry had heard about. 

It was a magically strong piece, and Harry cast some quick detection spells, revealing that the birds were enchanted to come to life follow someone and repeat what they overheard at the wearers command and that the roses would neutralize most poisons or love potions used against the wearer, and contained small capsules, most likely for poisons or love potions of the wearers own, he thought, thinking of some of the more ruthless highborn witches he’d met.

Next his eyes were drawn to a slim parrying dagger that on top of the a rather powerful disillusionment charm tied to it, had a spell similar to a hand of glory on it, which some more poking revealed was a tracking spell. If the dagger nicked the flesh of a person, the bearer would see a trail of their steps and be able to follow them anywhere. 

He found a golden raven pin with onyx eyes that called to him for Bran. His spells showed that it was enchanted to fly and pluck the eyes out of any that tried to harm the wearer, along with levitation charms if it’s wearer started to fall. Given what had just happened to the boy, it seemed even more fitting.

An iron pendant of a threstel rearing, enchanted to come alive in its owner’s moment of need and carry them away would be perfect for a boy the age of the youngest Stark that was unable to fight back much.

An obsidian dagger with a silver handle that contained a fairly strong, reflexive protego charm, that practically hit him over the head to be given Benjen. 

A platinum bracer with a moonstone gem in it (though he changed the lion engraving to a direwolf before shoving that at Jon too) and a matching broadsword for Robb. The bracer would generate a magic shield which seemed like a good idea, given that they were likely going to be going up against a bloody Queen and that would most likely turn out literally bloody. The broadsword had some featherweight and general stamina charms on it. 

A pair of simple, solid silver cuffs for Ned and Lady Stark. Touching the design on one would transfer the emotions you were feeling to the wearer of the other. 

Then a silver figurine of a lady, though there wasn’t much magic in it, and Harry didn’t get the sense to hand it over just yet.

That seemed to be all the feelings that he was getting from the weapons and the trinkets, so Harry quickly bowed Jon (somewhat mockingly) over to the animals, keeping in mind that he didn’t want to be dragged. Plus Jon didn’t really have hands free right now, so dragging would just be mean. Ghost trotted ahead of them, sniffing things inquisitively.

Harry finally pulled to a stop in front of the wall of eggs, including the dragon’s eggs, which were what he was drawn too. This also felt like the reason he needed Jon here, since really Harry could have carted or floated the things he’d been gathering himself. 

He eyed them, eventually guiding Jon more forward so that he was closer to the eggs, trying to see if he could tell if any of their magical signatures were reacting to the teen. Eventually an egg for a Hebridean Black practically sang at Jon in his head, and Harry shrugged. Guess that one was it. 

He had no idea why a dragon egg would make a good gift for Jon, but he took it down and carefully shrunk it. Dragon eggs petrified if not hatched by their parents in time, and if that happened it took a cross of magic and fire to hatch them from their shells. They were highly magic resistant, but if you knew what you were doing, which Harry did as Charlie had beat over his head one summer when he and Ron had spent part of their joint vacation with him, then you could shrink the petrified eggs for relatively safe traveling. It was in fact one of the few ways that Dragon Handlers could legally carry dragon eggs across international borders. 

Harry tapped his wand on the silver figurine, transfiguring it into a short chain necklace with a wirework cage to hold the egg. The egg would sit roughly at Jon’s collarbones. Harry quickly cast a bunch of anti-theft charms on it, along with an emergency portkey spell to take the wearer to the Crystal chamber if triggered, and then added the standard set of auror charms. 

One to help deflect the shots of people aiming at you (normally more for spells, but would hopefully work for arrows too), a low level, passive shield sharm (again, it would be interesting to see how it reacted to physical attacks rather than magical), another that would hum if poisons were around, an anti-tracking spell (again, was geared more towards magic, but they’d see about the physical aspects… perhaps he could adapt the spell?), and the last which encouraged the healing of smaller injuries.

They wouldn’t win a fight for the teen, but they’d help him survive one. 

Perfect. He darted forward and clasped the necklace around Jon’s neck. Luckily even though the teen was quite shocked he didn’t drop the artifacts in his hands. 

“There! Keep that on, I’ll explain it all in detail later, when I give everyone else theirs too.” 

He spun away after plucking the raven pin to begin the same set of spells while Jon spluttered in the background. He was still trying to spit out words as he headed out of the Safe Keeping, and Harry eyed him. Maybe some cultural thing about a guy giving another one a necklace? This Westoros was so ridiculously backwards in some ways. 

Harry turned to look at Jon who was still standing there uncharacteristically looking like an idiot. “Are you coming out, or do I need to drag you out?” Jon made another face and hurried out, and Harry laughed before he closed the door. 

“Your magic, it’s a stag? Were you a Baratheon? No, that long ago, the stag symbol would have been House Durrandon?” 

Harry, who had been watching Prongs prance a bit, dismissed the Patronus and turned to face Jon. “What?” 

Jon eyed him. “The Legends call you a Lord. What’s your House? A stag is currently the symbol of House Baratheon, has been since the Conquest and they took it from House Durrandon.” 

Harry blinked. “Oh, no. I’m a Potter. Harry James Potter. My family was wealthy, but we weren’t Noble or anything. The stag was more my Father’s personal sigil that he passed down. I am the Lord of the House of Black, but that was because my Godfather passed the title to me when he died without children and he hated most of his relatives, and I had decided to pass that particular title on to my Godson as soon as he turned 18. Technically I would probably also be Lord of a few others by right of conquest, but I never really bothered to really figure it out.”

Jon blinked at him. “You never bothered. And you were going to give up a Lordship.” 

Harry nodded. “Yes. I never wanted power. I just wanted to live happily with my friends and family and I had more than enough to do that without the title, and hurting my former enemies more just seemed petty.” Harry tilted his head, thinking back to being stuck in that damn Crystal. “In some cases that bit me on my arse, though, so I might have to re-think being petty on occasion. Merlin help me if I go all salt the earth on people though.” 

“Merlin? Is that your God?” 

“What? Merlin, no! He was just a really powerful, legendary wizard. Still human though. It’s just a common exclamation, I guess?”

Jon just looked at him sideways again, and Harry sighed. Ugh this was a pain. He dropped down to his knees by Bran and carefully pinned the Raven to his shirtfront. They sat there in silence for a little while, Jon having set the treasures down by Harry to lean against the wall near Bran and pet the puppies until they both forgave him, running his fingers through his little brother’s hair every now and again. He seemed to have given up on dragging Summer away, and appeared deep in thought. 

Once he finished casting spells on the rest of the gifts, Harry pulled over the map that Robb and Jon had given him, wow, was it really just the day before? Well, time flew when you were preventing murders. Anyway he pulled over the map and unfolded it to it’s full size. He still wasn’t entirely sure on the scale, but he placed a quick illusion of the UK and the Continent next to it. 

The House Elves said that the war made the world shift. That whole continents rose and fell. It seemed hard to believe that happened, even harder to believe that any humanity, muggle or magical, would have survived if that was the case. And that didn’t even scratch the other races. But there weren’t a lot of other explanations as to why things would look so different. He couldn’t see even a hint of any type of familiar landmark. And the culture… 

The Starks at least seemed to know of magic and weren’t too entirely shocked by his use of it, even if they seemed shocked by WHAT he could do. Like Jon, not blinking too much at him being able to read minds, but looking askance at him transfiguring objects. It was a small difference, but it was there. 

That combined with what he understood from Caster’s mind… Magic was, if not accepted or totally believed everywhere, known in all sorts of different forms. Just like Dragons, they might be extinct (or near enough in this area) but they were fully known by non-magicals. 

What it meant for witches and wizards of his type of this time was something he couldn’t begin to guess. Were there hidden communities? Or had magic and magical society just changed in 8000 years to the point it was integrated? 

Still he kept scouring the map as he waited for the next poke from the Felix Felicitous. Even if he didn’t find something, it would be a good idea to have a better lay of the land than he’d picked up from the glances through the guards minds. It was a while, long enough that Harry was beginning to feel the wearing off of the Felix Felicitous, when Skitter popped back into the room. 

“Master Harry sir!” Harry glanced up at the house elf, and noticed Jon starting to his side. The teen had almost drifted off to sleep. 

“Skitter, what happened up there?” Skitter gave a quick breakdown of Ned and Robb arriving in Bran’s room and how things had gone. The golem was holding up well, and the healer, the Maester, Jon filled in the correct term, hadn’t noticed anything odd.

The King and Queen had even come by to offer their sympathies, and Skitter had heard from Tamsy that the Queen and her brother hadn’t seemed remorseful at all, neither blinking an eye or showing any sign of remorse about the act they committed. While the Queen had retired, her brother was currently on shift guarding the Guest House. 

In fact most of the keep had gone to sleep at this point, and it was just the Starks in Bran’s room now, even the Maester returned to his chambers. 

Harry finally felt another pull from Felix, though it was weaker, and he got up. Well, time to pull back the curtain for the rest of the family. “Skitter, Nymph should be good on her own following the Queen and her brother for the night. Get Tamsy and get food for yourselves. Then bring some up to Bran’s room for Jon, Bran, and I. Also, when I call, bring up these gifts.” He waved a hand at the trinkets. “Also, see if you can find something pretty in the Safe Keeping to present them on, I have a feeling that we’re going to need to make a bit of a show…” 

Skitter nodded. “Yes, Master Harry sir!” The elf popped out, along with the gifts.” He turned to Jon, “we need to let the rest of your family in on things now.” 

Jon nodded, and quickly eased Bran awake while Harry stood and stretched. Jon moved to pick Bran up, but Harry got the urge to carry the boy instead, so after some quick maneuvering (and a weightlessness charm that he would never tell anyone about given how embarrassingly easy it was for Jon to lift up Bran) Harry was carrying a blanket wrapped Bran under a disillusionment spell while Jon walked in front of him, both the puppies darting around their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes... :( Please let me know if you spot any that I need to fix! :)


	4. Chapter Four

Robb watched his Father and Mother hovering over Bran’s bed. Even knowing as he did that it really wasn’t Bran there, it still tore at his heart something fierce, and he was thankful for the opportunity to have a relative break and hold his other siblings close. If the situation was different, it would probably be fairly amusing and cause sly comments on them mirroring their direwolves, curled up in a pile the way they were. Rob was the pillow of the group, sitting up against the wall on a pile of blankets, Sansa was leaning, finally asleep, cuddled against his shoulder, and a sleeping Arya and Rickon were draped with all their puppies along his legs. Jon, Ghost, and Summer were the only ones missing. Even Uncle Benjen was propped in the corner, helping them hold vigil to see if Bran would make it through this first perilous night.

The King and Queen had both paid visit to offer their best wishes, and it had been everything Robb could do to keep his face even. How his Father stood there and calmly accepted the vile woman’s false care, could offer his thanks for her prayers… Well, it was a good thing that they hadn’t been facing Robb. Benjen had been though, and his eyes had traveled between the pair and Robb’s momentary slip and his Father, his gaze darkening just a tad: the only sign he’d caught something suspicious. 

And Robb truly felt better when they left. Benjen had seen that too. 

Oh, he wanted Jon here. While Uncle Benjen loved all of them, he doted just that little bit extra on Jon, maybe because he saw how Robb’s Mother treated him… or he was just the favorite. 

Either way, if Jon were here Benjen would undoubtedly be suitably distracted by him and everything would be fine. Robb wouldn’t be giving it away because he couldn’t keep his damn face straight.

Well, as fine as things could be given what was going on. 

He knew there was no way to reveal Bran’s true current state without revealing Harry, and that as long as Harry remained hidden he was a phenomenal asset. Still it felt vaguely wrong to watch his Mother, siblings, and Uncle worry over ‘Bran’. It felt even more wrong to have the people that did this walking loose in their halls being treated as honored guests, though one of those creatures and whatever Nyph was were watching them. They were far too dangerous.

Especially as Harry wasn’t necessarily loyal to them. He’d saved Bran, but in his own words, that was just his inability to see a child harmed. He would have saved anyone.

Which made about as much sense as a Maester burning books. 

  
Harry was a mystery, plain and simple. And given his ability to dig into men’s minds, and his magic, and those strange creatures...

His Father had long taught him to be careful of one whose full capabilities he didn’t know, and Harry was a walking example of that. He was quiet, capricious, and somehow Rob suspected they’d only seen a fraction of what this stranger could really do. They also had little idea of why he’d been trapped in that Crystal. 

The legend of the Lord of Life said that a dying Lord had been trapped in the Crystal after warning a King of Winter, and after saving that King’s life. But Harry, quite obviously, was not dead. The truth seeing was real in a way that caused a slight thrill of fear along his spine, but Robb really didn’t have anything to hide, so he wasn’t that worried. And while the legend spoke of Magic of the Old Gods, well, Harry appeared to be able to do things Robb had never heard of: making people go invisible, the golem, and the making things float. The healing was dead useful though… and by far the least odd thing Robb had seen from him, though he’d heard tales of magic casters using fire before.

Robb was distracted from his thoughts by the door creaking open wider, and he looked up to see Jon tentatively step into the room, Ghost and Summer at his side. The way he held the door back a little longer than he really needed to had Robb straightening a tad. He eyed the air through the door, and... THERE! Just a shimmer really, a slightly uneven outline and waver in the air. There was someone there under Harry’s invisibility spell. 

Robb looked at his Father, who eyed the door and the space near it as well. Robb darted a glimpse at his Mother, who was glaring at Jon something fierce, though she glanced at Father and bit her lip, turning back to Bran. He sighed. Was she still being so horrible to his brother? Jon had told him everything was fine, but then things like this happened. 

Jon stood awkwardly in the room, looking between the empty space beside him, the door and their Father a little pleadingly. Unsurprisingly, Father caught on because his eyes widened. “Jon, would you shut the door? It’s getting a little drafty.” He finally said, and Jon quickly moved to comply. Mother, so busy fussing at the furs over the golem, obviously missed how tense Father was, but Uncle Benjen just continued to glare at the lot of them. 

After Jon closed the door there was some shifting, then a whisper from the supposedly empty air, and suddenly Harry appeared carrying Bran. Father made a huffing, exasperated noise, but Uncle Benjen shoved off from the wall, his hand on his blade. Jon barely made it across the room to halt him, finger to his lips indicating silence. “It’s alright, Benjen!” Father offered quickly which drew Mother’s attention from the fake Bran in the bed to the scene before her. She made the start of a noise, but Father slapped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet!” He hissed. The commotion was enough to begin to wake Sansa, though Arya and Rickon were still fully asleep. Robb preemptively moved a hand over her mouth, which finished waking her up, and it was lucky his hand was there because she gave a muffled shout. 

“Lord Stark?” came a worried question from the Guardsman outside the hall and Father quickly called out, “it’s fine, Jalaine!” 

Harry, ignoring the lot of them, carefully pulled the blanket back from Bran’s face which caused Mother to give a slightly confused noise though it was muffled against Father’s hand. Robb felt Sansa breathing heavily against his own palm, and her sharp nails dug through the linen of his shirt something fierce. Uncle Benjen was a mystery, to say the least, pure Stark composure taking over his face from where Jon was holding him back. Harry moved forward and set Bran down on the bed by the golem before quickly turning to the door with a wave of his wrist and some more of those lilting words. He looked to the window and did the same, before glancing around, and saying something else as if to the room itself. After another quick visual inspection of the room, he turned to Father. “We should be good to talk as loud as we need to now. No sound will carry beyond these walls.” 

Robb blinked. That was useful, he looked at his sister, who was now hyperventilating just a bit. “It’s alright, Sansa, I promise,” he reassured her and, meeting her eyes, he carefully moved his hand. Sansa blinked before a look of forced calm reminiscent of their Mother when dealing with particularly drunk Lords settled over her features. She turned back to face Harry and the commotion at the center of the room.

Robb was still trying to decide if she was okay when Bran finally gave in to the urges of youth, and called out, “Mother!” He reached for the woman, practically tipping from the bed. Jon barely released Uncle Benjen and made it in time to dart forward to keep Bran from falling to the floor. Robb blinked. In fact, it almost seemed like the boy floated for the extra second that Jon needed… Robb shot a glance over to Harry, who had moved forward almost as quickly. The Lady Stark was staring at the second Bran with a wide eyed look that paled her even further, and Robb half worried that she would faint. 

“Be careful of your back, kid! My work is delicate!” Harry snapped. That odd small stick was back in his hand with a flick of his wrist, and he cast something at Bran, nodding once he was done. “Okay, you’re lucky you didn’t hurt anything more. No fast or jerky movements for a week if you want to be able to walk again, Bran!” 

He paused for a moment and the room fell into a stunned silence. “Oh, Merlin’s beard, I sound like Madam Pomfrey.”

Robb had no idea who this ‘Madam Pomfrey’ or this Merlin was, but his words seemed to snap at least one person out of their stunned silence. Mother practically keened and she moved to Bran instinctively. “What? NED!” She snapped. 

“Cate, it’s a bit of a long story, but I promise you that this is Bran, and that, thanks to Harry, he is alive and well.” 

Mother made a desperate choking noise and flew from Father’s side to wrap Bran in her arms. Jon quickly back pedaled out of the way and Uncle Benjen grabbed his arm to steady him. Sansa made a choked sobbing noise next to her as she stared at them, and Robb glanced at her. She was still trying to keep a brave, together face, and despite the tears escaping it, Robb could tell that she would be fine. Good.

Harry just side stepped around the bed and looked down at the fake Bran. He spoke a quick word, causing the golem to open its eyes and sat up suddenly. The mouth on the, was it a creature? Unhinged in an unnatural manner and Harry reached in, pulling out a small rolled up scroll. The dark-haired man did something Robb didn’t quite catch to the small parchment, and then then Bran’s features melted from the golem. The action left a grey colored clay blob vaguely in the shape of a human. Harry put the scroll back in it’s mouth and then ordered it to the corner. The thing stood up and quickly moved. Benjen eyed it suspiciously, but his Uncle seemed, well, if not content then at least prepared to let Ned explain things.

It didn’t take long for Bran to be quickly stretched out into his own bed where he was properly fussed over quite a bit more. Given the anticipatory air about things, Robb felt the distinct urge to stand, and promptly went about trying to extricate himself. Sansa merely giggled at him struggling to figure out how to get Rickon, Arya, and all the direwolves (which now included Ghost) up and off his legs so he could climb to his feet. After he finally gave in and looked pleadingly at her, his sister rolled her eyes in an unladylike fashion at him and moved to help.

Unfortunately in the process they managed to wake Arya.

His youngest sister barely needed a moment to blink to coherence before she crowed and threw herself at Bran. Luckily, Jon managed to intercept her from landing right on their brother while their Mother gave Arya a quick tongue lashing about proper behavior around a sick bed. After sharing amused smiles at their younger sister, Sansa and Robb finished wrapping Rickon up in blankets. They left him asleep by the fire curled up with Shaggydog in his arms and all the other puppies at his back except for Summer who was quite at home at the foot of Bran’s bed. It was horribly cute, and Robb couldn’t help the grin that came over his face as he committed the scene to memory. 

After settling Rickon he was finally able to join the others around Bran’s bed, choosing to stand at Jon’s side. Both the girls were now sitting on the left side of bed while Mother was at her knees on the right, petting Bran’s hair with joy in her eyes. Father had stood, moving the chairs he and Mother had been sitting in back, and Uncle Benjen was hovering at his side like a great black bat. 

Harry had wisely hightailed it out of the way. 

It was a tense atmosphere, and no one seemed to want to speak first. Robb was trying to figure out something to say when the quiet was broken by Bran’s stomach suddenly growling. That snapped the tension and caused no small bit of laughter to ring throughout the room. Mother leaned over to kiss Bran’s forehead and shifted to get to her feet, most likely to call the servants to bring food, when Harry quickly stepped forward. 

“We don’t want to open the door or it will break the silence wards,” he said and, after eyeing everyone, called out “Skitter!” The creature from before popped into the room with a quick crack, another at its side. They carried three plates of food, one for each Bran, Jon, and Harry, Robb guessed given that they had been hidden in the catacombs all day when they weren’t questioning people for Father. 

They also held a platter of cheeses, sliced fruit and meats, likely for the others to snack on, and several skins of drink. 

All the girls and Uncle Benjen gave startled shouts, Benjen even going to the point of reaching for his dagger instinctively, before deliberately moving his hand and clenching and unclenching his fist a few times. 

Harry gave a small laugh and quickly moved to pass Bran a plate before grabbing one for himself, giving both the creatures a quick thanks. Jon took a plate as well with a nod of gratitude, and all three tucked in, obviously fairly hungry. The creatures placed the last platter at the foot of the bed, and quietly offered the drink skeens to the others. Robb had to give Sansa credit, she swallowed and after glancing at Bran and Jon, took a drink skeen with a polite “Thank you,” that had both creatures staring at her with bright smiles that lit their eyes. Arya looked like she was debating poking one of them. They placed the rest of the skeens on the bed and disappeared with another pop. 

Robb was actually a little surprised at how unsurprised he felt. He was quickly getting used to all the strangeness that followed Harry around. He leaned forward and plucked a grape from the pile of fruit and Arya followed his lead, quickly grabbing a hunk of venison to munch on, along with a skin that turned out to be water. 

They ate quietly for a few minutes, though Uncle Benjen and Mother were obviously full of questions. Almost as soon as Bran finished his last bite, Mother snapped with an icy tone Robb wasn’t sure he had ever heard her use before. “What is going on here?”

“I'd like to know as well, brother,” Uncle Benjen added, a slight shake to his voice. “I’d also like to know who he is!” He pointed sharply at Harry, who looked up from his plate and carefully swallowed the bite of food he was still chewing. 

“Harry saved me!” Bran quickly interjected. “The Queen and her brother tried to kill me!”

Bran’s words quickly silenced the room as everyone not in the know stared at him in shock.

“What?” Mother finally practically growled, giving quite the fine imitation of a direwolf herself. 

“Ned?” Benjen questioned a blank look on his face.

Ned sighed, “I trust that my son is not lying, brother.” 

“Start from the beginning,” Mother ordered, Benjen nodding right beside her. Bran quickly launched into his story, explaining how he’d been climbing, what he’d seen (which caused everyone to blanch a bit) and then what had happened after. Ned quickly took over when Bran started getting a bit worked up, and Jon and Rob threw in comments to help flesh things out from their point of views. When they were done Caitlin looked infuriated beyond anything that Robb had ever seen, and Uncle Benjen was not much better. 

Sansa looked like her heart had been completely broken, and Rob figured that with the crush he’d seen her starting to get on Joffrey and her hero worship of the Queen, she would probably need some time to get over this particular betrayal.

“Well, that explains some of this,” Benjen said, “but not where this Harry came from, or more importantly his magic and those creatures,” Benjen gestured at their odd guest again.

Ned sighed, “Do you remember the legend of the Lord of Life?” Benjen clenched his jaw a bit, before he nodded. Mother had to think it over a moment, before she nodded as well. Robb suddenly recalled that Father always told them that legend himself deep in the catacombs, and that Mother had never been there when he’d told any of them. In fact, when she had walked with them for vigils or ceremonies, or when she had been there when the Septa or Maester were walking them through the catacombs and explaining the history of the Starks, everyone had almost blindly passed the turn to the great door without even seeming to see it, and he’d never even felt the urge to show it to her though it stood out to him plain as day. 

Father seemed to realize that now as well, as he swallowed. “And more importantly, Benjen, the door down in the catacombs?” Sansa and Arya, both having heard the Legend at Father’s knee at the door, gasped quietly. Sansa looking a tad pale, and Arya looking like this was better than every name day present she’d ever gotten all rolled into one. 

Benjen’s eyes narrowed, “The one that Father showed us? That he claimed held the Lord of Life?” 

“Door in the catacombs?” Mother questioned, looking as if she was trying to decide if she should be mad or curious.

Father nodded. “Aye, Cate. There's a door in the catacombs that I have not showed you. It's... Well,” he looked at Benjen who stared back stonily. “It’s been passed down that it is one of the things we Starks protect. In the version of the tale that Starks tell to our children, that door guards the Lord of Life from the legend himself.” Mother’s breath caught. “Last night, after we received the missive from your sister I went down to the catacombs to think and while I was there something drew me to the door. I was standing at it when the boys came.”

Mother looked at him, while Benjen grabbed Jon’s shoulder. Robb just shrugged. “I don’t know, it just felt like we needed to be there.” Jon nodded in agreement.

Father sighed. “One thing led to another and somehow the door opened. A giant crystal was there, just like in the legend, and Harry was inside. Something about us being there released him.” 

Everyone stared at Harry who just shrugged. “Magic,” he said. “It has the tendency to be nonsensical most of the time. You learn to just go with the flow.”

“The crystal he was in shattering caused last night’s jolt,” Ned told Catelyn. “I’m sorry it worried you, love.” 

Mother shook her head. Benjen on the other hand looked at Harry, maybe not quite with disbelief, but with caution, and frankly if Robb hadn’t been there when Harry had been released he likely would have had a few issues with the story as well. “Are you really the Lord of life?” his Uncle asked. 

Harry sighed, “it's possible. I was called many things. It's quite possible that the title Lord of Life would have been tacked onto me at the some point. And honestly, I don't know how I even came to be in the Stark catacombs after being trapped in that damn thing, and before you ask, the story of how I ended up in the Crystal is a long one that I don't really plan to get into.”

Both Uncle Benjen and Mother looked like they wanted to argue, and luckily Father quickly interjected. “I'm not sure anyone knows how you came to be there anymore, given how long it has been since the Starks started our catacombs.” He eyed both Benjen and Mother sharply. “What I will say on the matter is that Harry did not have to save Bran or heal him, but he did. If it had not been for his magic, our son would likely have been harmed horrifically or killed, and we would not know the true cause or culprits. That says enough about him to me.”

Everyone glanced at the golem unconsciously, and Robb thought of the way it looked when it was pretending to be Bran, so tiny and helpless in Bran’s bed. Robb clenched his jaw. They’d get through this and their enemies would suffer a thousand times over for what was done. 

“I do thank you, Harry.” Mother said, straightening herself up into her standard, far more proper bearing. “What I want to know, Ned, is why you have not  brought this to the attention of the King?” She was practically fuming, she vary rarely questioned Father when not in the privacy of their rooms, always presenting a united front. The few exceptions were when it involved something about the children that she disagreed with, like when Father had taken Bran with them when they executed the deserter from the Night’s Watch.

Ned shook his head. “I want to, but-” he glanced at Harry, “the stories about the Lord of Life being a truth seer are accurate as well. Harry saw that many here in the King’s retinue are more loyal to the Lannisters than the King. While we have them outnumbered, we risk much if we reveal this now.”

“So the Lannisters are plotting against the throne,” Mother spat venomously.  

Harry shrugged, “I don't know so much about that. The Queen seems to enjoy being Queen, and from what I can see while she bears little love for the King she does seem love her children fiercely.”

“And I can't see the Lannisters wanting the children out of the line of succession,” Benjen added. “If Joffrey sits on the Iron Throne, he will ensure the power of the Lannisters for generations to come.”

“About that,” Father looked to Harry, “what were you and Jon able to discover this afternoon? Were you able to get a glimpse of any more of the king's bastards?”

“I mainly saw quite a bit of rampant corruption that apparently isn’t a surprise to a truly disgusting level,” Harry snarked, “but I was able to get a glimpse of the kids that you wanted to see, and yes, every single one of them had black hair just like the king.”

Ned nodded, looking down sadly. “I thought as much.”

“What are you talking about?” Sansa finally burst. “Why do we care about the King's bastards? If the Queen and her Uncle are traitors that's not his fault! Joffrey is the Prince and he’s bright and golden and will be a great king!” 

“I think I see,” Benjen muttered, a dark look upon his face.

“As do I,” said Mother, a dangerous look of anger and determination on her face. 

“Aye,” Father said, “given what Bran saw I think it likely that the Princes and the Princess are most likely the children of Cersei and Jaime Lannister rather than Cersei and the King.” 

“And you think that is why Jon Arryn was killed?” Catelyn asked fiercely. “He discovered this?” 

“Jon Aryn was murdered?” Benjen snapped. 

Ned nodded, “So his wife claims.”

“Lysa sent word from the Eyrie, where she has fled from the Capital. She wrote that her husband was murdered by the Lannisters. That she feared for hers and her sons’ lives and that the King was in danger,” Mother added.  

Robb hadn’t heard that yet. Truthfully he’d never even met his Aunt or his cousin, so he couldn’t vouch for them personally, but Mother seemed to believe it, and the evidence they had seemed to agree with his Aunt’s words. 

Benjen rubbed his hands over his face. “Well, brother. This is a right mess you’ve found yourself in.” 

Father laughed a little wryly. “That is true. I’ve already told Robert that I will accept his offer to be the Hand, so I will need to go to King’s Landing.” He looked at the girls. “I haven’t accepted the proposal to marry Sansa and Joffrey yet, though. Truthfully I don’t want any of you with me in Capital, it is too dangerous if we plan to move against the Lannisters.” 

“From what I saw in the Guardsmen’s minds, you don’t want to accept that proposal, and it’s not just because of your concerns about his legitimacy,” Harry stated plainly, though there was more than a little sarcasm on the legitimacy part, and Robb bit his tongue. Looks like Jon had another defender. 

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked before anyone else could, though Mother looked just as ready to pry the answer out of Harry with a hot poker if needed. 

Harry sighed, finally putting his plate down next to the platter, and moving to look Sansa in the eye. “Joffrey looks like a right little terror. The guards have seen him engaged in countless cruelties. He’s a lier and a selfish shit, to say the least. One guard was there when Joffrey tortured a pregnant cat to death that Tommen was fond of just to hurt his little brother. Many of the older servants whisper of how his changing whims are similar to those of the Mad King’s when he first started deteriorating.” 

Sansa’s hands flew to her mouth, and she let loose a sob. Lady whined from over by the fire in sympathy, and quickly raced across the room to jump into Sansa’s lap while the rest of the wolves eyed them worriedly. Robb moved to lay a protective arm over Sansa and pull her against him. 

“Sansa will not be marrying Joffrey!” Mother snapped in a fire, glaring at Father.

“You’ll hear no argument from me woman! I didn’t want to agree in the first place!” He snapped right back. “That damn Throne and everything near it is a curse, and I’d keep all the children as far from it as possible if I could!” 

Robb glanced at Father. The way he said that… “Why can’t you, Father?” 

Ned looked him over, and Robb, while he knew it wasn’t his intent, felt like he’d failed some type of test. “It is too obvious, if I don’t bring any of you with me to King’s Landing. And we need to avoid suspicion until I can get Robert to more allies so we can hold the Lannisters, most especially Tywin, off while the Queen and Jaime are brought to justice.” Father actually looked worried. “Tywin will not take well to us accusing Jaime or Cersei, or removing his grandson from the line of succession.” 

Even Uncle Benjen looked a little sick. “We’ve got a fair amount of people running from that old lion on the Wall. The stories they tell…”

Father shook his head. “I am sure they don’t do it justice. I was there when King’s Landing was sacked in the Rebellion… The way he stepped over Princess Elia and the babes… Those children’s bodies… The atrocities his men committed…” Father stood up quickly, and moved to the window. “And the things he did during the Greyjoy rebellion or against the Tarbecks... And Castamere… There wasn’t a single Reyne left alive. I won’t let him destroy us as well.”

“Talking to the Crows, most of the ministers and court positions not taken by Baratheons or hereditary right belong to Lannisters these days, that or their cousins and bannermen. And their sons squire for over half the damn Southern Knights. It’ll be a right mess finding people to trust,” Benjen growled.

“And their gold can buy many of the others,” Mother added. 

Robb scowled. He very much agreed with his Father about Southern politics. 

“But they swore oaths to the King, didn’t they Father?” Arya asked. “And if you give your word, you keep it.”

Ned looked at them sadly. “Aye, you should. But unfortunately many are less than honest or honorable, no matter what they espouse. Especially those near a power like the Iron Throne. There’s a reason I stay North as much as I do.” 

“But you said that if we come across an enemy, that you must defeat them!” Arya said. 

“And I will, which is why I am going South no matter how much I want to stay in Winterfell. I’ll do my duty. We are Starks, and no matter what others do, we live with our choices and do our duty. For Winter is Coming, and we must all be strong, and united, to survive.”

Arya didn’t look entirely convinced, but still nodded. Sansa’s fists were clenched in Robb’s leathers, and Jon was practically hunched in on himself, looking between Father and his siblings.

“Still, allies,” Harry said. “I get the feeling those are the first thing you need to think of. This Princess Elia that Tywin had killed, did she have family?” 

Father blinked. “Yes, she was a Martell, and the pressure Dorne can bring to bear is not inconsiderable.” 

“Rumor has it that Prince Oberyn is still quite incised over the fate of his sister,” Mother mused.

“And the Dornish are some of the few that still man the Wall with little question,” Benjen added. “There’s a reason that House Martell are still Princes and Princesses and that Dorne has so much autonomy.”

Ned nodded, “the problem will be if they will listen to us. Northern and Dornish ways are different enough. We’ve not always been close even when fighting under the same banner, and while I believe they do not hold us to account for what happened to Elia, we were fighting alongside Robert and the Lannisters when it happened. For all we know they blame Lyanna for the whole mess. We will need to approach them cautiously.” 

“Stannis and Renly would stand by their brother, I believe,” Father nodded in agreement. “The Tyrells? Do you think?” Mother asked as well, and Father looked thoughtful.

“Possibly. Olenna would be the one to talk to,” Benjen chimed in. “She seems to be the brains of the lot.” 

Robb listened as they bandied a few more Lords and Ladies about. Then Jon caught his eye and they shared a look as it became obvious that this would be a complicated mess no matter how it went. Was the idea of upsetting the Lannisters that problematic? Tywin was regarded as a monster, but for all their gold they were one family. And listening to Mother and Uncle Benjen bandy about the oddest reasons to trust or not trust certain families… 

Robb had thought relations between the Northern Lords could be tense, but at least it was for good reasons like accidental over hunting, or legitimate border disputes thanks to an unexpected family death. 

Eventually Father raised a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Enough! We’ve stayed to the North so long that we need more information on the South before we can narrow a list down much further.” 

Benjen agreed with a nod, but Mother was clenching her jaw a little. Apparently, she didn’t necessarily approve but would remain silent for now. Arya and Bran both looked a little lost, though that was not unexpected given they hadn’t had much training on the other Houses yet. Robb, for one, was of the same mind as Father, and he could tell from their tense faces that Jon and Sansa were too. He didn’t doubt that if it came to arms, they’d be able to more than hold their own, but somehow, he doubted that would happen. As much as he hated to admit it, this seemed more about politics than fighting. He almost wished it were the latter, with a clear goal and knowing exactly who the enemy was.

“Still, we need to plan for contingencies, and you’ll have trouble if it comes to a march though, brother,” Benjen added, and Robb blinked. “You’ll need to have men on both sides of the Trident, which means that you need the Twins, and what I hear about Walder Frey is nothing good these days.” Robb didn’t huff, but it was close, and he ignored the smirk Jon sent his way. 

“Lord Walder Frey is a bitter old man,” Mother said. “My Father always called him the Late Lord Frey.” 

“He did come at the end, though, but you’re right. Avoiding the Twins will add weeks to any march through the neck at the least.”

“Call it a hunch, but he feels like a linchpin,” Harry added. Robb was quite proud that he didn’t jump given that he had almost completely forgot the other boy was there. “I don’t know all the politics involved, but I’ve got my magic, and something about that name is making my hackles rise. Something… He feels like a chill and an ill wind down my spine. I’d advise against turning your back on him.” 

Father, Mother, and Benjen all grimaced, but seemed to agree. Maybe Robb should quietly look into options of getting more bridges built while Father was away? Mother was from the Riverlands, so he could use that as an excuse, maybe? 

“You’ll need to court him carefully,” Benjen added. “I’ll talk to the Crows at the Wall and send you word. See what they say on how to approach him.”

“You’re going back to the Wall?” Arya asked. “Now? When there’s so much trouble?” 

Benjen knelt in front of her. “Your Father will always have my support, little one. But I have a duty, and it involves being on that Wall. There are signs enough pointing to a possible threat there that I need to look into it while your Father handles this. That is what it means to be a Stark: you do your duty, even if it is hard.” 

“But-” 

“Enough, Arya, I don’t fault your Uncle for this and neither should you. We have enough enemies at the moment without fighting each other,” Father said gently, and Arya looked at the floor mutinously for a moment before nodding. 

“Possibly stupid question: What’s the Wall?” Harry asked. 

“I’ll explain later,” Robb told him. 

“Uh, huh… Nope. That is screaming at me to go up and check it out something fierce. Something’s happening there.”

“I am going to take the Black, I can help Uncle Benjen!” Jon shoved forward circling the bed to aim for Father at the window, and Robb locked the hand not clutching Sansa around his arm to hold him back. Jon had always talked about taking the Black with stars in his eyes, desperate for a place to fit in, but Robb hadn’t been sure. He’d seen enough looks on Father’s face, or Benjen’s or any of the others. Jon had either ignored them or dismissed them, dead set on this belief in a place his birth wouldn’t matter. 

“Jon-”

“Father. please! I won’t let you down I swear it!” 

Robb bit his lip, Jon rarely called Father anything but Lord Stark if there was anyone around that wasn’t his siblings, and he never did it in front of Mother, who, true to form had a right dark look upon her face. It was a dangerous enough stare that Robb had to look away, only for him to see Harry eyeing Mother distastefully. He had a feeling this would not bode well. 

Father moved from the window to stand in front of Jon. They communicated silently for a moment, and at the end Jon looked more than a little like the only thing keeping him from bursting into tears was the fact that he thought doing so would disappoint Father. “Jon, you would never let me down. Taking the Black is a serious, life-time commitment. If you choose it, I know you will do well, but there are other options for you to consider.”

Like family. 

Robb had enough training in dealing with the Night’s Watch to know that few who took the Black were ever seen again. If they were they’d become Crows, interested only in collecting more souls for Wall they served. Uncle Benjen was high enough in the ranks that he could leave on similar missions, added to the fact that he was the brother of the Warden of the North and the Wall depended on Father for many supplies… 

Well, it would be a long time before Jon would be in a similar position. And Robb wasn’t sure if his brother would be the same person when he saw him again. 

“I’m willing to do that, Father!” 

“Well,” Harry interjected. “I have the urge to see this Wall, given the way it’s calling to me. Plus, I’m new here so I need to get a better lay of the land.” Everyone blinked at him. “While I have some of those guard’s memories helping me out, culturally I still feel a bit lost.” They blinked again. “Since I fully intend to wander around until I get used to this place, for better or worse, well, I’d been meaning to ask you how one went about travel arrangements.” Harry grinned. “I think something that would serve all our purposes would be to have Jon act as my guide.” 

“What?” Jon burst out. Robb clenched his fist tighter on Jon’s arm, and Father had a look on his face like he’d been hit by a sledgehammer. 

“Since the first stop would be the Wall, you’d get a better idea of this whole taking the Black thing,” Harry added to Jon, “and you could then keep me company as I poke around Westeros and get used to things. If you decide to join the Night’s Watch after that, so be it.” Robb wasn’t entirely sure about his brother spending who knows how long wandering around Westeros with this newcomer, but as Jon actually looked like he was really contemplating it he was more than happy to support the option. It was a neat solution that would solve multiple goals, including having someone keep an eye on Harry, giving Robb a better chance to see Jon again sooner, and letting Jon see all the options out there to the Black. “Here’s another bonus,” Harry turned to Father. “While I plan to mostly stay out of things, I’m invested enough in this to want to help a little, so I can use delivering messages to a few of the other Lords for you as way to pick a place to sightsee rather than throw darts at a map.” 

Father looked rather contemplative at that, but before he could say anything else, Benjen stepped forward. “I think it’s a good idea. Plus, by your word, the Starks owe him for saving Bran. You funding his trip and having Jon go with him to help him avoid stepping on too many toes seems like a good way to repay him.” Mother nodded resolutely, whether it was at the idea of Jon being gone or repaying Harry for saving Bran, Robb couldn’t say. 

“It’s your choice, son,” Father turned to Jon. 

After a moment, Jon nodded, “I haven’t been outside of the North much, but I’m happy to help where I can.” Harry beamed at him and nodded. Robb let out a relieved sigh.

“That’s Jon,” Benjen said, “but what about all the others? Like you said, you must bring at least one of the children to King’s Landing. Otherwise it will send the wrong messages to far too many people.” 

“I’ll go,” Sansa said surprisingly. There was an instant clamor from Arya and Mother, and his hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders protectively, but Sansa pushed away from Robb and stood to her feet. “We can use a possible engagement as a good reason. You can say that you’re making up your mind still, and want to see if I like the capital. I… That would mean that Joffrey would have to be at least a little nice, right? If he thought he needed to prove himself to me?” Father looked taken aback a little, but Mother nodded hesitantly. “And I can talk to the Ladies at court. I can help you find allies, Father!” 

“I want to go too!” Arya jumped up. “I’ve always wanted to see all the tournaments, and I can sneak around and listen!”

“Arya!” Mother snapped. “You sh-”

“You’re both Starks, what with those guts,” Benjen interrupted, a fond look on his face, and Father sighed. 

The room was quiet for a moment before Father finally said, “They can both come. I know they’ll do their family proud.” Mother looked like she’d swallowed something sour, but she did gain a slightly proud air as she looked over her daughters. 

“While you’re traveling down,” Mother added, “Robb and I will send ravens to our bannermen. We will need to start preparing just in case.”

Harry scoffed a little. “From what I’ve seen I wouldn’t trust most Houses. I-” the other boy cut off when Father straightened and met his eyes, a steely look on his face. 

“The loyalty of the North. I’d not question it without better reason than a disdain for a time or world you do not understand.”

Harry clenched his jaw. “If I’m going to be dragged into this, then I’m going to make sure that the people I’m helping aren’t going to stab me in the back.” He turned to Mother. “Don’t tell them why but have them get to Winterfell roughly when Jon and I will be passing through on the way South, and I’ll take a look at their minds.”

Robb was glad that he wasn’t the only that looked a little taken aback by that, but Harry scowled. “You were fine with me looking at all those Lannister men’s minds, don’t get all huffy now. I’m just checking if they’re already on the Lannisters side or not.” 

_ Well, that is certainly true _ , Robb thought,  _ and useful _ . He nodded. “We can use the guise of redrawing plans in case there are problems at the Wall given how short staffed it is, along with all the rumors of problems.”

Jon immediately jumped in to back him. “Plus, signs point to this being a truly hard winter. Robb can use the excuse of making sure everyone is on the same page and has adequate provisions as well.” 

“Meanwhile,” Benjen added, “I will get what info I can and send it along with Harry and Jon on their way down. They can meet up with you in King’s Landing after stopping here, so you know exactly what next steps you need to take.” 

Father nodded, though distrusting his bannermen obviously sat ill at ease with him. It did with Robb as well, and honestly, he wasn’t certain of what to think regarding the the fact that he was willing to have Harry read them, but ultimately they were going against the Queen and Tywin Lannister, so he just made sure to have something prepared to make up to their loyal friends for doubting them, and hopefully it would be enough. 

“Oh! I almost forgot! Skitter!” Harry called out. 

Robb didn’t jump when Skitter appeared, no matter what the amused look Jon sent him said to the contrary. The small house elf was holding a tray with several items laid out on it. “There’s actually more down in that chamber than just the remains of that Crystal. Basically it’s a Safe Keeping for what is left of the old magic. And I do owe you for finally waking me, so… Gifts, to protect your house and your children.”

Harry didn’t hold too much ceremony as he handed his gifts out and explained them, the bands for Father and Mother, the necklace and pendant for Sansa and Rickon, the daggers for Ayra and Benjen, but Robb couldn’t help but feel a certain weight as he fingered the bracer now strapped to his arm under his glove and inspected the broadsword (which was a truly beautiful piece). He was half tempted to use it on Jon if he didn’t stop smirking at him, as well ask what Jon had received, but before he could move Harry distracted him. “Also, they’re one way emergency portkeys.” They blinked. “Basically magical travel. All you need to do is grab them and say ‘there is no place like home,’ and they’ll take you to the Crystal chamber along with anyone else touching them.” 

Robb blinked again… That… A way for his siblings to be safe if anyone came for them… 

This was worth far more than anything they had given him. A quick glance at Father and Jon showed they felt much the same. 

“Arya, be careful with that,” Mother said, and Robb looked over to see his sister waving the dagger Harry had given her about. “Harry, while I certainly appreciate the sentiment, a dagger is not an appropriate gift for a young girl.” 

“Mother!” Arya shrieked, clutching the knife close to her chest. She looked like she’d claw anyone that tried to take it from her.

Harry shrugged uncaringly, “The magic fit her, it’s hers.” 

“Besides, Lady Stark,” Jon quickly interjected, drawing Mother’s attention from both Arya and Harry. “It actually matches the small sword I had commissioned for her nameday.” The look of anger on Mother’s face was matched only by the pure joy on Arya’s as she launched herself from the side of Bran’s bed all the way across the room to hang on Jon. Father and Benjen traded a sad look over her head. It took a moment for Robb to remember that they’d lost a sister the older servants mentioned was quite like Arya. He also made a note to make sure that Jon and their Mother weren’t alone together any time soon. 

“I still think tha-” Mother started, but Father moved to place a hand on her shoulder and smiled at Arya. “It is a fine pair of gifts, Arya. Just doesn’t stab anyone with either of them unless your life is in danger.” Arya actually teared up a little, and if she hadn’t still been wrapped in Jon’s arms, Robb had no doubt she’d have thrown herself at Father. “In fact,” Father continued, “it might be good for Sansa to get a dagger for a more direct self defense as well, leaving Harry’s gift as a last resort as we do not want to give away the advantage of the surprise it brings until we absolutely must.”

Mother looked, well, something. Robb wasn’t sure but it wasn’t happy. “Very well, especially given the vipers’ nest they will be going to.” 

Thankfully things quickly wound down after that, and Harry, despite Mother’s protests, reactivated the golem. Robb agreed though. They’d need to take Bran back down to the Catacombs where it was safe. No one was entirely happy in fact, but until the Queen and the Kingslayer left, they’d need to be extra careful to ensure they didn’t come after Bran again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this was a little slow, I wanted to get the set up out of the way, the next chapter should hopefully be a bit better. Please let me know if you spot any mistakes!


End file.
